Deus in Machina II: Decens Humanus
by Molon Labe
Summary: With her emotions fully developed, Cameron longs for the impossible: to become fully human and have a soul. As she contemplates spirituality, her love for John, and her desire for acceptance, a month of lost leads brings Judgment Day to their doorstep...
1. Heaven or Dream?

Heaven or Dream

Heaven or Dream?

Cameron had never dreamt before. Her sleep mode never entered REM. Naturally, being a self-aware being, Cameron was able to see many of the things and the thoughts that she had compiled during sleep, but she did not have the usual subconscious sagas that a human had. That is, until this night. Was this what it was like for humans? She had usually heard that dreams were either outrageous theme or chronology. She remembered Madison boring Amanda in algebra by telling her the scary dream that she had where Corey Battier (Brad's friend) was naked in front of her and suddenly turned into a werewolf that looked like Mickey Mouse. It sounded silly, but according to Madison, it was terrifying. Cameron thought it was ridiculous as it should have been obvious that it was not real. But now, she was experiencing what _had_ to be a dream, and it felt completely real.

She was completely aware, she felt things, her senses were all normal…no, this could not be a dream, she was awake…she had to be…but what if this is what dreams were like to humans? She had no way of knowing. She looked down and realized that she was dressed in the same clothes that she went to bed in, but somehow, she had been transported somewhere else. She had been asleep, so she had little way of knowing exactly what her surroundings were like, but wherever she was, it was not in the Connors' house; it did not even look like it belonged in the United States. It looked like she was standing in some kind of ancient temple…although it was completely built, not some ruin.

Cameron's history was not good beyond what she learned in her history classes and what she knew about the coming of Judgment Day, but not much about ancient architecture. The ceiling had to be at least a hundred feet high with a large skylight letting in a stream of sunlight. There were pillars, in rows of twos, that were lining the floor in front of her. The entire floor was made of a glossy marble and there was a long, red carpet in front of her, leading to what looked like some kind of golden altar. Behind that was a grand, throne-like chair, though no king or priest sat in it. Various golden statues of ancient warriors, as well as animals like lions, horses, and bulls stood proudly by the walls, and gold carvings on the walls told various stories, most of which Cameron did not really know.

The pillars on either side of her met at the top in a Persian/Arabic style arch. Come to think of it, much of this place suggested that it was Middle Eastern in origin. But, there was something strange about it. Cameron looked around and saw that she was the only one in the building. Normally, she would either become anxious as it was possible that she had been disabled and captured, or she would be wondering where John was and if he was safe. Instead, she felt calm and happy. She could not figure out why as she was in a strange place she had never seen before and was all alone. Yet, something about it said that she was welcome there, and that it was a place of safety and goodness.

Cameron tried to calculate where she might be by looking at her files…only to discover that she had no "files" per say! She had a memory; it was a memory of everything she had done since joining the Resistance, though it was not as clear as it usually was. For things that happened a year earlier, she could only remember bits and pieces of them instead of the actual recording her CPU usually carried. Without her files, she decided to try and scan the temple/palace and see if anything matched up. However, it was at that moment that she noticed that she had no heads up display. She did not hear the usual scratching and squeaking of her CPU. Ever sensation she felt was amplified, but instead of panic and thinking that something was seriously wrong, she had this strange feeling that something was very _right_.

_Wait a moment_, she thought as she made her way to a huge, decorative vase that looked like it had originated in Egypt or something. She wrapped her arms around the vase and lifted. Normally, she would have been able to pick this up like it was inflatable, but she could barely make it budge.

"Ugh!" she groaned as she continued to try and pick it up. She was able to lift it maybe a half inch off the ground, but her arms were burning and her body seemed to scream to be relieved. As gently as possible, she put the vase down and exhaled deeply.

_What is going on? Am I…human?_ She wondered. No heads up display, no super strength, everything was felt and not analyzed as environment inquiries…she was…_real!_ She knew if this was true, she would have lost many physical abilities, but gained many mental and emotional ones, which was a trade she would make in a heartbeat!

"I have to tell John," she said happily, "It's a miracle! I have to bring him here; this is beautiful!" Cameron laughed as she fell to her knees, rubbing her new, real skin, smelling the air around her, and just feeling great. There was no other way to describe it, she felt perfect. "I'm alive!" she shouted, jumping to her feet, running across the room with her hands in the air, laughing with glee, "I'm real!" She began to dance an arrangement that she had learned in ballet class, humming the accompanying music; apparently, in her transformation, she had not really lost any skills in dancing. If anyone had seen her though, they would have thought she lost her mind. "I can't believe this. How did it happen? I don't care how it happened," she said breathily, completing her number and racing over to one of the huge windows, letting in beautiful early morning sun. The view around was breathtaking. She appeared to on top of a grassy hill overlooking an ancient city. However, whatever civilization she was in apparently had a good economy as even the "poor" looking houses were huge! There were areas of construction over to her right, and there seemed to be some kind of market just at the bottom of the hill, though right now, it was somewhat empty.

Cameron whipped around as the huge doors to this temple/church/cathedral opened. In walked a man, in his late twenties or early thirties, in a pair of old jeans, a blue polo shirt, and work boots, carrying a backpack. He was a handsome man, with brown hair and a goatee and kind eyes, and he looked like he had just arrived to do some kind of construction work.

"Good morning," he waved to her with a smile.

"Good morning," Cameron replied, her euphoria dropping a little bit, now replaced with a little curiosity and concern.

"I heard someone jumping around in here," the stranger said, "You sound pretty happy."

"Uh, yes," Cameron was unsure of what to say. How could she explain that she had turned, overnight and without explanation, from a cyborg into a human being?

"So, what's the good news?"

"It's a long story," Cameron said, hoping to brush him off.

"Really? That's weird; people usually say that about something bad that they don't want to talk about. Usually one would want someone to share in their happiness," the man looked confused.

"Well, if I told you, you'd probably think I'm insane and in need of psychological treatment," Cameron said, forcing a laugh.

"I doubt that," the man said, "I've heard some pretty crazy stories in my years."

"No," Cameron looked at the ground bashfully, "this is really strange. You'd want to lock me up in Pescadaro if you heard this."

"Well, Sarah was locked up there and it turned out she was right, wasn't she?" the man smiled slyly and folded his arms.

"Yes, she was proven correct to…wait a minute!" Cameron jolted and sucked in a deep breath, a feeling of disappointment coming over her. "Wait, this is some kind of weird program…something like a human's dream. I'm not real."

"Weeellll," the stranger thought, or pretended to think, for a moment, "that depends on how you look at it."

"What are the different ways to look at it?" Cameron asked walking over to the man.

"If you mean that this will end when you wake up, then yes, this is a dream. If you mean that this is just some program originated in your brain or CPU, than no, this is not a dream; this is very real."  
Cameron looked around again. This was certainly another place and time. Did she step into a time displacement generator and not know it? It was beautiful, but she was not supposed to be here. "How do I know that this is not a dream, and your saying that it is not a dream is just not part of my processor?" she asked.

"Well," the man gave her a thoughtful look, "I suppose that's where you have to take a leap of faith, Cameron."

"It must be a dream or an errant program," she concluded, "Because I have never met you, and you know my name and Sarah's history. But…this is real," Cameron pinched herself. She felt the pain, but that could have just been part of the dream. Regardless of what it was, she figured it would be best to try and talk with this man and find out what was going on. Before she could speak, the man broke the short silence.

"So, do you like it here?"

"Yes," she replied, "it's really beautiful. Do you work here?"

"Well, yes, I'm building this place. This room has been complete for a few years but the rest of it is coming along. It'll be a few more years before this place is ready. Bet you'd like to live here, huh?"

"What is this place?" Cameron asked.

"Well, it's a lot of things. It's going to have a lot of rooms for my friends, it's going to be the head of administration for the Earth, and this is My Father's throne room."

Cameron's eyes widened. Administration for…Earth?? _Throne room?_ This couldn't be Skynet, but was this some kind of megalomaniac? Or, could this be…

"You wonder who My Father is, don't you?" the man stated.

"Yes," she replied.

"Tell me, what do you want, Cameron?" the man asked.

"You mean, why am I here? Because, I don't know; I don't know how I got here," she said, a little irritated.

"No, I mean, what do you want with your life?"

_Well, that's a personal question,_ she thought, _but then again, I this guy seems to already know me._

"Before you answer that, would you like a drink?"

"Um…" Cameron's heart (yes, she now had a heart) began to beat fast. The last time a guy offered her a drink, it did not turn out so well.

"I will not put any drug it," the man smiled, "You can trust me."

"Um, okay," Cameron said quietly.

Then, the man turned around and put his hand into one of the huge vases. When he pulled it out, it was filled with water! He then produced two cups from…well, she could not see where, and dipped them both into the vase to fill them. He took a drink with one hand and handed her the other cup.

"Ahh, that felt good," he said, wiping off his mouth, "I would have made wine, but it's a little early for that."

Cameron opened her mouth in amazement in mid-sip, causing water to trickle around her mouth.

"Your dripping, Cameron."

"Sorry, I…who are you?" she asked, eyes wide.

"You can call me Josh," he said.

"Josh…Joshua…Yeshua…Jesus. Are you Jesus Christ?" she said, nearly breathless.

"It is as you say. Now, I ask you again, what is it that you want?" Josh said.

"I…" she kneeled down on the ground to think, "Is my being human permanent?"

"Is that what you want?" Josh asked again.

"Yes!" Cameron stood up, "Yes, more than anything. Ever since the car bomb, I've wanted to be real. I don't like being a terminator; people hate me and I have no soul."

"You wish to be human, and go into Judgment Day, unable to fight like you can now?" Josh feigned surprise.

Cameron looked down at the ground, "Oh, I hadn't thought about that. But, I don't want Judgment Day to come," she looked up with desperation in her eyes, "can you make Judgment Day not come?"  
"I can, but what if I choose to do it through you and John?" he said, "You won't be able to succeed without a terminator, you know."

"Oh," she had not considered that, "That's true. But…I feel good like this but…I won't…I don't know," Cameron shook her head, "If this is all real, you know better than me what is best."

"You have a purpose, Cameron, you must serve it. You cannot run from it, although My Father has been known to relieve the burdens of those who ask," Josh grimaced for a second, "though—I know from personal experience—not always."

"I know I have a mission to complete," she stated, "and I know we can do this, but what about after? I live for about a hundred years or so, maybe shorter because my power source burns out, then I just die out and that's the end of it. As I see you standing here, I'm guessing that a lot of people get to go to heaven or something. Also, I…well, I can taste and feel, and love and hate, and…well," she smiled shyly and looked at the ground, "You get the idea. But I'm still not real, and I don't have a soul because I'm just a machine. I want to have worth beyond just an intelligent…walking tank."

Jesus finished up his water and dropped the cup on the ground; the cup disappeared before it even bounced. "What good is it to live as a human but then lose your soul?"

"You mean, if I'm going to become human I'm going to go to hell?" Cameron was suddenly hit a wave of despair, anxiety, and hopelessness. So that was it. She was doomed from the beginning, "I know I have done many bad things…that's why, right?"

"If what you've done cannot be forgiven, then what can be?"

"Well…then what can I do to be human and not go to hell?" Cameron asked desperately.

"Do you read the Scriptures?" Jesus asked.

"I know a few passages, but I have never really read it or studied it."

"Well, then let me give you the greatest commandment: Love the Lord your God with all your heart. And love your neighbor as yourself. You can love me by showing love to others, both those who love you back and those who do not much care for you," He said.

"How do I do that?" Cameron said, feeling a little bit better.

"Hold no evil thoughts toward those who wrong you. Help those in need, forgive as you are forgiven, show mercy, fight for good and hate evil.

"You are going to return in a minute to what you were. Tell John not to worry about the bear in the dream, it will never catch him. If you have any more questions, you have the Word, and you have those in and around your life to help guide you. My Father has not ignored your pleas and hopes; do His will, and you will inherit the Kingdom," Jesus ended with a smile.

Cameron's eyes shot open, taking in not the sight of a beautiful temple ceiling, but the white, plain ceiling of the living room. She felt out of breath, or at least what a human would describe the feeling as. She did not feel like she had just come out of sleep mode; it was as if there was no transition from "Heaven"—if that's where she had been—to here. She remembered blinking, and by the time she had opened her eyes, she was here. The only difference was the HUD in her vision had returned, she could hear the "whur" of her power source and, well, she just felt the way she usually did. She was a terminator again. There was no way to describe her mood now other than depressed. Her greatest dream had only lasted a few minutes and now she was back to reality. Skynet was still out there and they had a war to fight.

_Was that a dream?_ She asked herself, _I'm not programmed to dream, and I'm not programmed to have faith, so what was that?_ She was not supposed to have faith per say, but desire and wishing were well within a TOK's programming. She remembered just how much dread and angst she felt on the day that she was almost incinerated. The thought that once her chip was removed and her consciousness ceased to function that it would never resume was indescribably horrible. However, she never really thought about this in the long term. She was aware that eventually she would wear out, but that was about a hundred or so years down the road; she never really thought about afterlife, or leaving a legacy, or what or who created the world if anything at all; all of this was irrelevant to her mission. But, now that she, in the eyes of her program, abandoned her mission, such thoughts crowded into her mind.

_First things first,_ something inside her said, _He said you would succeed. Stop worrying, Cameron. Just have faith…faith may not be part of your programming, but neither is love…or hunger._ She then realized that, once again, she was hungry. Her heads-up display told her that it was 0613 hours; John had fallen asleep about five minutes before her, and she had gone to sleep at 0231 hours, so it would probably be about three or four more hours at least before he was up. Sarah had today off, so she would probably be up in about an hour and a half or so. _I should go back to sleep,_ she thought, _or maybe I should patrol since I'm at ninety-eight percent energy. No, because that's what terminators do…and I don't want to be a terminator,_ for the second time in her existence, tears ran down her cheek, _I don't want to be a terminator. I'm so alone. John; please wake up, John, I feel alone, I need to talk to someone…I need someone to hold me._ She scooted closer to him and put her head back on his shoulder, a tear running onto his shirt.

"Umm," John groaned. He was a habitual light sleeper for good reason, but insignificant things sometimes disturbed him. He opened his eyes slightly to see Cameron looking at him guiltily. She wanted him to wake up, but she felt guilty for waking him at the same time. "You okay?" he asked tiredly.

"Yes…I mean…I don't know," she said, "I feel so alone and confused."

"You want to talk about it?"

"Yes," she said, looking deeply into his eyes, "Do you ever think about the afterlife?"

"What do you mean?" John replied, sitting up.

"Do you believe in God, and Heaven and Hell, and redemption?" she asked.

"Uh…I'm pretty sure I believe in God. I guess my mom and I are kind of Catholic. And yeah, I believe in Heaven, and I think that really bad people like Hitler—and probably Sarkissian—go to hell. How about you?"

"How do you think that a person gets into Heaven?" Cameron asked.

"I guess…you have to be good. Do good things for people."

"But what about the bad things you do? How do you atone for that?" Cameron asked, another tear running down her cheek, "I've killed innocent people, I've stood by and watched people I could have saved die because it was not my mission to save them. There was all the stuff I did to you and all the bad thoughts I had. I'll probably do bad things in the future whether I mean to or not, so how can I ever do enough things to get into Heaven? That is," she swallowed, "If I even have a soul."

"First, you have a soul. I don't think, I _know_ you do," John said, hoping it was true, "second, I really don't know how these things work. I was told you have to go to confession and it erases your sins, but you still have to make up for it but doing more good things. I wouldn't worry right now though, Cam," he smiled and kissed her lightly on the forehead.

Cameron gave him a sad smile, "You should get some more sleep. I'm sorry I woke you up."

"That's okay," John replied, returning her smile, "You're nice to wake up to."

John's kind words soothed Cameron a bit and allowed her to relax and concentrate on getting back into sleep mode. However, the encounter, or dream, or whatever it was naturally still ran through her head.


	2. Not Faking It

Not Faking It

Not Faking It

John was still asleep when Cameron woke a second time. It was now 0755 according to her HUD, and Sarah would probably be getting up soon, unless she had been up late watching a movie. Regardless, it was Sunday morning, and they would no doubt be having pancakes.

_It is starting to get old and I'm finding pancakes less enjoyable_, she thought, _at least generic pancakes with butter and that fake maple syrup. But at least Sarah tries. I need to build a better relationship with her, though, so I had better not complain._ She sat up slowly, taking special care not to let the creaky bed disturb John again. She was still feeling hungry. As she did not require much more than the very minimal nutrition to sustain her organic parts, she concluded that her hunger was caused by the glucose levels affecting her brain chemicals. This, in turn, caused what could only be described as stomach pains. _I don't want pancakes though…but I think the end of this fight deserves more of a celebratory breakfast…maybe crepes. They are just thin pancakes, only better. I wonder if we have the recipe._ Cameron put on a thoughtful look, _perhaps this could be a bonding time for Sarah and I_.

Excitedly, Cameron went to John's room and turned on his computer. A quick Google brought up hundreds of crepe recipes and topping suggestions. A scan of her internal memory files brought up what ingredients they already had in the house. Luckily, all that was needed was some vegetable oil and a few toppings that she knew she could "wing it" as John put it, when she saw them. Quickly and quietly (hoping to get this errand done before Sarah awoke), Cameron slipped into her room, grabbed some more presentable clothes, and went to change in the bathroom (modesty was another trait that she had developed, even in front of Derek who she knew would not get turned on by her changing).

The drive over to the mom and pop market was only about three minutes.

"Good morning, Miss Baum," Suneil, the son of the owner, greeted, "You are up early."

"Yes," Cameron smiled, which was a nice development. Usually she gave a blank stare with her replies to people she did not know well. "I want to make crepes and I need oil. Do you have any toppings that you would suggest?"

Suneil suggested Nutella and bananas, the former which Cameron had not ever tried before, so that was a definite yes. The whole trip only took ten minutes and when Cameron had returned, she was happy to find that Sarah was still in the shower, so she could put coffee on and arrange the ingredients.

Sarah loved Sundays. Just to make sure she had a day off, she put "unavailable" for her schedule. If she did not have a day of hunting Skynet, her day would consist of a good breakfast, a workout, then just being lazy. She had not heard anything overnight, so no terminator had found Cameron and John wherever they were; at any rate, it would be relatively quiet today…or so she thought.

It was not a choice morning greeting to Sarah seeing Cameron brewing coffee as she came downstairs and entered the kitchen. While admittedly, she did not really hate the female terminator anymore and, on some days, was even somewhat fond of her (though she would never admit it), she _was_ hoping that perhaps the Tin Miss would be out of the house. No such luck though.

Sarah let out a quiet groan as she saw Cameron. Cameron, however, turned to her with a cheerful smile on her face.

"Good morning, Sarah," she greeted, "I made you some coffee. It's French Vanilla; I got it from the corner market."

"I could have made it myself," Sarah grumbled.

Cameron bit her lip, a little hurt. She was hoping that Sarah would tell her it was very nice of her. "I know, but I thought I would have it ready for you when you woke up," she replied quietly.

"I'm sure," Sarah said nastily, "Let me guess, you put in some arsenic for flavor, huh?"

The "little" hurt swelled and Cameron felt that now common lump in her throat as she dropped her head. She felt her face get hot and her eyes begin to water. The normally voluntary emotion functions that were supposed to be used for infiltration were reacting on their own as she once again felt genuine hurt and rejection. "I'm sorry," she choked out, "I didn't know that my presence this morning would make you feel angry. I'll go now," she left the room slowly, afraid showing too much emotion would send Sarah over the edge, but it was pretty much out of her hands.

_John,_ she thought, _I need to talk to you again. I feel hurt. I hate myself and everyone hates me._

"Cameron," Sarah sighed, "Wait." She knew she had stepped over the line. Cameron had done absolutely nothing wrong, yet Sarah was taking a page out of Derek's playbook and just being plain mean. She had forgotten, or in some cases denied that Cameron was very different than when they had first met. "Cameron, please listen to me," she said softly as the terminator stopped and turned around, still unable to look up at Sarah. "That was rude of me, okay? I'm sorry."

Cameron gave a slight nod, but fell back against the wall and allowed herself to slide down.

"Cameron," Sarah tried to convince herself that she was irritated, and did not feel ashamed, but it was impossible, "There was no reason for that. You did not do anything wrong."

"I just wanted to make breakfast with you," Cameron replied, her voice shaking a bit, "I thought maybe if we had some time doing some casual and low stress…maybe you would not hate me as much for a little bit."

_Now_ Sarah felt guilty. That was sweet, and cute too. Cameron, it seemed, was trying to act like a daughter or something, and no good parent would say those things to their child. "Okay," she smiled at Cameron, who was still looking at the ground, "let's make breakfast."

"You don't want to," Cameron shook her head dejectedly, "I don't want to make you do something you don't want."

"No, that's not true, I was just grumpy," Sarah reasoned, "Please, I was wrong," she walked over to the counter where Cameron had set up the ingredients and the printed recipe sheet, "Crepes? I've never made them before. Did you make them in the future?"

Cameron shook her head, still looking at the floor.

"Well, we'll have to both experiment, huh?" Sarah was really feeling bad now. She actually wanted to cheer…a _terminator_ up, but this one was tough. "Cameron, look at me."

She looked up at Sarah, her eyes watery and mournful.

"Smile," Sarah said, "Come on. Let's see your pretty smile." She was becoming so intent on succeeding she suddenly forgot what Cameron was, which was just as well because Cameron was, in a word, "normal" now. Also, though "tough as nuclear nails," Sarah was still a mother and she was not really a bitch either, and she made sure of that.

Cameron, however, did force a small grin. It was sad, but it was what she could manage.

"That's a good start. Now, how about we get to cooking? That'll make you feel better…well, not with my lack of cooking skill but…" Sarah said.

Cameron giggled a little bit and stood up. "Okay, Sarah," she said, still a bit hurt but getting better, "let's make crepes."

The beginning of the food preparation was relatively quiet as Sarah felt awkward and Cameron was trying to keep her hurt feelings under control. She really did not want this. She wanted Sarah to open up and maybe make this a bonding time, but right now, she was pretty sure this was a guilt activity on Sarah's part. Sarah had a feeling that Cameron was thinking—or processing, or whatever—this and now, for some reason caring what Cameron thought and felt, she felt the need to make small talk.

"So, how was the prom? I haven't heard anything about it yet."

"I was on the prom court," Cameron said, though she was not quite as proud of this as she had been. She owed her popularity to Brad, and she did not want _anything_ that he had given her.

"Wow, good for you, Ti…Cameron," Sarah had decided a few minutes ago that, due to Cameron's new sensitive nature, she was going to try and stop calling her "Tin Miss."

"I'm sorry I didn't stay off the radar, but it's just high school and I don't think anyone will remember it," Cameron continued as she stirred in some oil into the batter. She wondered if she should tell Sarah what else happened. On one hand, it was painful to think of, but on the other, it was probably better that she got it in the open herself so that if or when John mentioned it she, Cameron, would not be accused of covering it up. "I never want to talk to Brad Swanson again, though," she began, hoping she gave the implication that Brad was alive.

"Your date? What did he do?" Sarah asked.

"He wanted to have sex with me…actually, he assumed I wanted to as well and he tried to get me to, but I refused. Then he offered me a drink, but he put a date rape drug in it. I am not susceptible to them of course."

"Whoa!" Sarah stopped, alarmed, "He's alive…right? Because I told you…"

"Yes, I didn't hurt him…well, I punched him, but not hard…for me that is," Cameron replied, somewhat proudly, "John was the one who beat him up when he found out. John really is going to be a great soldier and a good leader."

"Is he okay?"

"Yes, Brad did not even get one hit on him. John had him beaten in under a minute; then he made Brad apologize to me," Cameron smiled, thinking about how John stood up for her, "then we dropped off Cheri and went home and watched The Mask of Zorro until we fell asleep. John's on the couch."

Sarah nodded, "sounds like quite the eventful night. You two have to be more careful though; you know that. You're right about the failure to stay under the radar. Until we can get Judgment Day…"

"I know," Cameron cut her off quickly, "I know I was stupid. I'm not going to date Brad, and John doesn't want to date Cheri anymore. So you don't have to worry." They continued to cook in relative silence for a little bit until a few crepes were ready and it was time to serve them. "I'll go wake John up," Cameron offered.

"Okay."

Cameron walked back into the living room and sat down on the hide-away bed, causing it to creak. John stirred a little bit but did not open his eyes. Cameron grinned widely and lay down, pulling him into an embrace. "Wake up, John," she whispered, "we made breakfast."

John opened his eyes to see her pretty brown eyes staring happily at him. He returned her happy look. "Hey, Pretty Girl," he said.

Cameron loved when he called her "Pretty Girl," especially when she felt lonely like she did now. It made her feel valued.

"So, you guys made pancakes?" John said, beginning to sit up.

"Crepes…so, French pancakes," Cameron replied, "Come on, they don't taste as good when they get cold."

Cameron's breakfast was, by both Sarah and John's standards, a success. The crepes were very good; not too dry and not too batter-y. With the Nutella and bananas, they were delicious.

"I think you've found us a new recipe, Cameron," Sarah commented, "And, this is the first meal I've been involved with that was actually good…and on the first try at that!"

"Yep, you gotta do this more often, Cam," John added.

"I'm glad you like them," Cameron said, "we need a juicer though."

"Why?" Sarah said, swallowing a mouthful of crepes.

"Fresh juice tastes better than the store-bought kind," she commented.

Sarah laughed, "Well, aren't you the culinary expert. Maybe you should open up a diner."

"No, I don't like tin in my food," Derek snidely commented as he walked into the kitchen, "call me crazy."

John groaned loudly. And he thought it was going to be a nice quiet breakfast. Silly him.

"All those empty beer cans in the garage are yours, Derek," Cameron replied dryly, "so that's a double standard."

"So is keeping and feeding a terminator when our goal is to wipe them out," he shot back.

"Derek!" John stood up, "We were having a good morning. Don't ruin it."

"No, we're not having a good day because she's here," Derek pointed at Cameron.

"Why are you mad at me?" Cameron said, her voice shaking a bit. Normally, she did not really pay much attention to Derek's insults, but right now she was really sensitive.

"I'm not mad, I just hate you," he gave Cameron a rude grin as he grabbed some crepes.

"Derek, shut up and eat. Don't talk to or about her for the rest of breakfast," John ordered.

"Why? John, I'm telling you, you're getting way too attached to her. Stop standing up for a friggin…"

"Reese! Sit!" Sarah ordered firmly, "Knock it off. She's got feelings now."

"So, we have to give her a free pass for fucking everything up?" he said, shoveling in a mouthful of breakfast.

"No, but we're going to not be attacking her when she doesn't do anything wrong," Sarah ordered.

Derek shook his head disappointedly, "You're letting me down, Sarah. You're letting me down badly. She FAKES THEM! There's no remorse or fear or tears! She's just trying to win your heart before she friggin' tears it out of your ribcage!

"Yeah, go ahead and tell me that 'she's good' and 'she's on our side.' You know what? She's not 'good.' She's just doing what she was reprogrammed to do. Your computer does what you want, but it's not because it 'likes' you. It's a machine and it does what it's programmed to do. Same thing with this hunk of scrap. She's just acting according to her programming…"

"That's just it, I'm not!" Cameron shot out of her seat, her lip quivering with fear and hurt, her eyes watering yet again, "I didn't want to tell anyone because I knew someone would panic, but I've been rogue since I rebooted after the car bomb surgery! I realized I didn't have to follow any directives and I started thinking for myself. But I'm protecting John and fighting for humanity because I choose to. I hate Skynet and I want to prevent Judgment Day and I've made the decision myself. I'm willing to give my life to protect John and both of you!" a tear ran down her cheek, "But there's absolutely nothing I can say or do that can convince you of this…I've accepted that. Excuse me," she covered her face and ran out of the room and up the stairs.

John stood up and glared at Derek, "What in the _hell_ is your Goddamned problem? We know you hate her, why did you have to turn breakfast into a battlefield? Can't you learn to shut up sometimes? She didn't do anything, and even if she did, you're the last person in the world who has the right to criticize her!" With that, he headed upstairs to see Cameron, leaving Sarah and Derek alone in the kitchen.

Sarah reached over and smacked Derek in the back of the head, "Seriously, you've got some issues to work out, Reese!" she hissed, "You know what? I'm okay with her! She's been a hell of a better companion than you and she doesn't constantly start shit just to start it! We know how you feel, just keep it to yourself. I mean, you're not going to suddenly change our minds and make use bring her to the incinerator at breakfast just because you feel like going on one of your tirades."

"You don't know these things like I do, Sarah," Derek replied simply, though a little subdued. It was obvious he was losing his ally in his personal war against Cameron.

"Yes I do! How dare you say that!" Sarah exploded, "You act like you're a damn martyr all the time and the only one who's actually suffered from Skynet. Look who you're talking to! We know how these things are, and I am a hard person to impress, so if I say she's different, she's different. Maybe someday I'll say you were right, but for now, I say you're wrong, so shut up! _I'll_ do the parenting around here!" With that, she got up and followed John and Cameron upstairs.

"We're wasting time!" Derek called out, "We've been playing normal family for too long and now God knows where the Turk is. Don't forget what we're supposed to do!"

Sarah stopped and sighed. About this, she knew, he was right. She would need to talk to John and Cameron and then get them back on task.

John opened the door to Cameron's room to find her sitting on the unmade bed clutching her knees, sobbing almost uncontrollably.

"It's impossible," she cried, "I can't do anything right. I…I…" she broke into another sob.

John quickly made his way to her bed and sat down, pulling her into his arms. "Shhh, shhh," he comforted, "Don't listen to him. He's an idiot. What he thinks doesn't matter. None of it's true."

"I keep trying and trying and trying, but they still hate me! You should hate me too. I don't even know what to do now. I've done everything I can to show I'm good…"  
"Cameron, Cameron," John said, stroking her back, "You've done what you can. He has the problem, not you. I know it hurts to be insulted like that, but he's not going to change my opinion on you. I don't think he's going to change Mom's mind either. But you just keep doing what you're doing. You've been good as gold."

"How…can…you…say that?" she choked out, "After what I did to you?"

"That's behind us. We learned our lessons," he soothed, "Just relax. Is there anything I can get you?"

"Just…keep holding me," she requested, putting her arms around him, tears flooding down her cheeks.

Sarah watched the whole scene from the cracked open door, her heart actually aching for Cameron and at the same time, swelling with pride in John. He was like his father, caring and gentle. But Cameron…_She's real,_ Sarah thought, _aside from her skeleton, nothing about her is fake. But I can't make myself…no, she's a terminator…maybe a sensitive one but…oh, this is too much!_

"I love you," she heard John say. Not knowing that this was far from the first time he had said that to Cameron, a cold chill ran down her back hearing that said to a terminator.

"I love you too, John" Cameron, a little calmer now, replied, "And I love Sarah, and Azadah…and I don't hate Derek even though he hates me. But I especially love you, because you're my best friend."

"I'm never going to abandon you, Cam. Just know that," John said quietly.

"I know," she replied. She then took a deep breath, "We should spend the day together doing something fun."

"No," Sarah said as she walked in. John sighed and rolled his eyes, but he did not shy away from holding Cameron. "I would like to allow it, but we've gotten off task. We need to make some serious moves toward finding this informant cousin of Cameron's."

John sighed, "Mom…"

"No, she's right," Cameron sat up and rubbed her eyes, "Judgment Day's roots begin sometime between this year and 2011. We need to keep focused."

John sighed again, "Alright, what's the mission?"

"You still have the codes from our Cyberdyne raid, right?" Sarah asked Cameron.

"Yes, they're recorded," Cameron said, still sniffling a little bit, tears still welled up in her eyes, "I'm sorry you have to see me like this, Sarah. I…I'm not malfunctioning and I'll be able to perform my duties but…" she sniffled again and choked back a sob, "I'm sorry. We'll do it." She looked down again, trying to get a hold of her emotions, still sobbing though.

"Cameron," Sarah put her hand on the cyborg's shoulder, "It's okay. I'm not mad. Also, I don't hate you. I don't hate you at all. It's okay. You're going to be alright," she comforted, "But…well, as long as you have these emotions, you've gotta get thicker skin, Sweetie." _Did I just call a terminator "sweetie?"_ she asked herself, feeling a little bit weird.

"How is that going to help my emotions?" she asked, "Increasing the thickness of my epidermal layer isn't going to change how I feel. Plus, we used most of Vick's extra skin to…

"No, no, no," Sarah fought the urge to laugh, though she did grin, "Having thick skin is just an expression. It means you're less likely to get your feelings hurt. You know how Derek is and you know how cruel people can be in general, and I can't have you breaking down every time something like this happens."

"I won't do it in combat," Cameron's voice cracked, "I can control myself when I need to, I think. But…but this is where I can actually express myself…and it hurts."

"I know, but Cameron, this is no way to live. Besides," Sarah patted her on the shoulder, "You have John, and I think his opinion matters much more than Derek's, right?"

"Right."

"And…I'll stand up for you too. Okay?"

"Okay," Cameron grabbed a tissue from the box on her nightstand (further evidence that this had not been the first time this happened) and dabbed her eyes, "I'm going to need help though. But…" she took a deep breath, "I'm okay…I'm okay."

"Great, now, you two, get to hacking that chip," Sarah turned left, heading back down the stairs.


	3. CW6132026

_Note: I'm sorry it took me so long to update. I've been quite busy with the hiring processes for various PDs as well as teaching. At any rate, here's the next chapter. I'll try and get the next few out a bit quicker, but I can't make any promises. Thank you all for the reviews!_

CW6132026

"Okay, let's hear those codes," John said once he had Withers' chip hooked up for hacking.

"It's pretty long," Cameron cautioned.

"That's what she said," John joked.

"Who?"

"What? Oh, no it was a joke," he explained, They do it on that TV show The Office. Every time somebody says something that could be misinterpreted to mean something sexual, Michael, the main guy, says 'that's what she said.' Think about it."

"It's pretty long…that's what she said…" Cameron thought about it, then broke into a big smile, "Oh! I get it! That's perverted," she laughed, "And it's a play on words. That's funny."

"Yep. Okay, now the code," John said.

"That's what she said," Cameron replied, still laughing.

"Uh…nice try, but that doesn't work. Keep at it though."

"Oh," Cameron frowned for a moment, then smiled again, "Thank you for explaining. Anyway, maybe I should type the code so I don't have to dictate. You can just point to where I need to enter it."

Once again, it was not a "plug and play" situation. The codes were difficult and they needed to be hacked from the start, which took over two hours. Finally, they reached the last layer, which was where John had left off before. This time, though, they had the key.

"So, how's it coming?" Sarah asked, walking into the room.

"Almost there," John said, concentrating.

"Not through the code yet? Holy crap," Sarah shook her head.

"Yeah, this guy is tough," John agreed.

"That's why I hate these…Triple Eights," she emphasized, making sure that Cameron did not get the wrong idea, "And we've had two people playing with this damn thing since we took it out!"

"That's what she said," Cameron replied.

"What?" Sarah could not believe her ears.

Cameron giggled and John burst out laughing.

"See? You got it," John squeezed her shoulder.

Sarah let out a groan of mock exasperation, "Really, John. Must you teach her these things?"

"She would have found out anyway," John said with a shrug. He saw his mother shaking her head and trying hard not to laugh. It was pretty funny, and coming from Cameron was even better.

"Okay, John, I think we're in," Cameron called his attention back.

The T-888's CPU was very well laid out in a surprisingly easy to read fashion. There was a log of its locations, various new words and social behaviors it had learned, combat recordings, a list of allies and enemies, and naturally, a hit list.

"Let's see who he was supposed to go after and who he got," John suggested.

"Can you take it from here? I'm not good with this stuff," Cameron said, "I could learn it but I don't feel like it right now."

"Sure," John scooted into the seat as Cameron moved over, "You…getting up?" he asked.

"No," she gave him a playful smile, "I'm too lazy. You can share with me."

John grinned back, "You're cute."

Cameron put her arms around him and gave him a quick hug before sitting up again and paying attention to the screen. Sarah watched the whole thing from the doorway with an uncomfortable feeling. Sure, she was okay with Cameron, but…_with_ John?

"Okay, let's see, Curtis Taylor, whereabouts unknown. That's the guy like Azadah that we have yet to meet," John said, "Lieutenant Derek Reese, opportunity target, contact made, termination: Failed. What does 'opportunity target' mean?"

"It means Withers was not assigned to terminate him," Cameron explained, "But that should he find Derek, he could and should take him out. But otherwise not to look for him or anything."

"Okay then. Sergeant David Whistler, secondary target, terminated. Poor guy," John commented, "Let's see…TOK715-DE5152026 alias Daniel Eckerd, informant 1 of 3, primary target, terminated."

"That's obviously one of them," Cameron commented.

"Unknown assailant, terminated. Unknown, unknown, unknown…TOK715-CW6132026 alias unknown, primary target, termination failed due to subject escape. TOK715-TW6122026 alias unknown, primary target, termination failed due to subject escape. TOK715-CP7242026 alias unknown, opportunity target, termination in progress," John continued reading.

"That's me," Cameron said flatly.

"Which one?"

"The last one. That was my designation number: CP7242026. Plus, I was his last target before you and Azadah shut him down," she continued.

"What does the code designate?" John asked, reading carefully over the list. The mid-morning sun beams beat through the window onto his face, but John still felt cold. It was maddening to see his beloved Cameron on someone's hit list.

"The first letter designates the unit I am. The second designates what line I'm from. The numbers are the date of construction; my _built_-day…can I get a cake on July Twenty-fourth?"

John turned to her and smiled, "Of course. What kind?"

"Chocolate. And I get presents too, right?" Cameron seemed to be getting excited, "And not just flak vests and guns."

"Yep, whatever you want…that is, whatever we can afford," John did not want to brush her off too much, but she seemed to be distractible today, so he would have to keep her on task, "So…CP: Cameron Phillips, DE: Daniel Eckerd…Okay, I'm seeing how you guys got your names. Do all TOKs take their names from the two letters?"

Cameron thought, trying to remember, "I don't know what I did since I had my memory scrubbed. I would guess that the most likely answer to that is that Skynet assigns the names, so I don't think we 'take' our names."

"So, do the first two letters always denote the first and last names?"

"To the best of my knowledge, though they could use an alias."

"Hmmm…" John thought, "well, according to this, they're all in the LA area. I need to take a look at the photos and maybe that will give us some leads."

"That could take awhile," Cameron commented, "I'm beginning to really dislike doing this," she paused for a moment and stared off into space, looking bored. "I think I'm still hungry. I'm going to get a bowl of cereal, because I'm pretty sure Derek ate the rest of my crepes."

"I did," Derek called out as he reached the top of the stairs, "Why should…"

"Derek, just stop talking right there," Sarah ordered.

"…we let them go to waste?" he finished.

"_Any_way, I'm going to go eat. Call if you need me," Cameron said as she walked out of the room.

John continued to hack as Cameron went to the kitchen and came back munching on dry Corn Pops, bumping him with her hip to signal him to move over and share the chair.

"Hey, I'm curious, what do you do when you sleep?" John asked. He knew it was completely off topic, but, as Cameron did, he wanted to just make conversation as he typed.

"I…uh, close my eyes and stop moving," she laughed.

"Well, I know that, but, do you feel relaxed? Do you feel anything? Do you shut down completely? Do you dream? What?" he continued.

"Why do you want to know?" Cameron thought this was a random and this odd line of questioning.

"Just making conversation," John said with a smile.

"Oh, okay. Well, I kind of…what is the colloquial term for when you're almost completely asleep but still somewhat aware of your surroundings?"

"I think…I'm not sure…I think that's a catnap," John told her.

"Yeah, that's what I usually do, and I feel refreshed afterward. It's good because I can end the sleep immediately if there's trouble. But last night, I went into a deep sleep and I started dreaming. I didn't know I could do that," Cameron replied thoughtfully.

"What did you dream?"

"Well I…it's a long story. You know how people describe dreams and it makes sense to them but to nobody else," she reasoned, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear and laying her head on John's shoulder.

"I had this weird dream last night. I was running through this wasteland; it must have been after Judgment Day. I was getting chased by this prehistoric…bear monster thing and the thing kept chasing me and I kept getting away. Every time I'd hide, it'd find me, and I'd barely get away. And it was strange, because I had this guy—some guy I'd never met before…didn't even see his face—and he kept telling me to just stop, because the bear was eventually going to catch me."

Cameron sensed what felt like a short circuit running through her body and a strange cold sensation ran through her arms as she sat up straight and stared at John with wide eyes. "The bear will never catch you," she said quickly, remembering the words Joshua—or Jesus—had said in her dream.

"What?" John was almost speechless. The way she said that…it was like she _knew_ he had that dream.

"I mean…I…uh," _There was no way that was dream,_ Cameron told herself, feeling dread and excitement at the same time. _You'd better think of an alibi before he thinks you've gone crazy._ "I…would…imagine…" she stopped and thought for a moment. Her CPU was no good for this kind of thing; she was relying almost fully on her real brain. Then, she got it, "I would imagine you're dreaming about terminators or Skynet or something like that. That's what the bear is. And the person who keeps saying that the bear will catch you is just your own doubt. But, the bear won't catch because I won't let it."

"I know," John put his arm around her shoulder and gave her a quick hug. That made sense; she wasn't psychic, just analytical.

_Was I right in saying that? Maybe the bear dream had nothing to do with Skynet and it was just a sign for me. Did I just sin? But I wasn't lying…but I didn't tell him what I dreamed…this is going to blow my CPU trying to figure this out!_

"We're into the photo IDs," John said, but Cameron only half heard him.

_Am I telepathic and just don't know it? Or did I really have some out-of-body, or resurrection experience?_ "John, can you excuse me for a moment?"

"Sure, but come back soon. I'm going to get this cleared up in the next few minutes," he said, a bit distracted.

"Noted," she said, getting up and walking almost aimlessly back toward her room. Her bed was still not made and mess kind of annoyed her, but right now, she did not care as she flopped down and started thinking. _It was real! It was all real; it had to be. But what does that mean for me? What do I have to do exactly?_ Before she could analyze any further, John's somewhat panicked voice interrupted her thoughts.

"Cameron," John called, "Come here. I need some help."

Cameron shot up and walked quickly over to John's room, seeing him typing furiously.

"Do you know anything about emergency self destruction? Because I'm getting warnings that…" suddenly the screen went blank, "Shiiiitt!" he hissed as he pounded at the keyboard, "No, no, no!"

"That's not normal," Cameron said matter-of-factly, "I was completely unaware that they had a self-destruct. Oh no," she shook her head, "no, no, no, no…" she trailed off.

"Well, there goes our lead," John's voice was icy, "And Osborn and Larson died for nothing."

Cameron looked mournful. She had thought this was it. They would be two steps ahead of Skynet and they could probably take it a little bit easier. She sighed deeply, "Nothing seems to work in our favor," she lamented, laying her head on John's shoulder again, "Whatever this CW or TW models know is really important because Skynet doesn't want anyone near them." She began to tap the desk impatiently.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The house was pretty much silent except the quiet hum of the computer, the faint sound of Derek watching TV downstairs, and Sarah washing the dishes. John was angry about the chip, but Cameron's presence soothed him a bit.

_Should I make a move?_ He wondered, _she seems to have changed her mind about me. No, she never gave me the go ahead. I know Cameron, and with the way she is now, she could snap if I do. Just slow down, John. She'll be gun shy for awhile._

Cameron sighed again, "I'm trying to figure this out," she explained, "My CPU is working overtime on this, and my brain is going to…overheat," she provided a forced, nervous laugh.

John shook his head and grinned at her, "I'm having trouble getting over you…the way that you are, I mean," he said, "You're completely real. I can usually sense when something is not quite real, but I just don't see that in you."

Cameron smiled back, "Thank you, John," she kissed him on the cheek, "I know I'm a bit retarded as a human, but it really means a lot to hear you say that I'm real…because that's what I want to be more than anything," she tilted her head back thoughtfully and wondered aloud, "I wonder if the other TOKs have the same thoughts."

"Well, one thing's for sure—and this is kind of scary—I could be standing right next to one and if didn't already know, I would never guess she was a terminator. Hell, maybe I have more TOK friends and I don't even know it."

"Maybe," Cameron replied dreamily, somewhat spaced out. Then, something hit her, "Wait…CW6132026…CW…it seems unlikely but…" she looked at John with wide eyes, but he did not seem to get it, "Do you think maybe...?"

"Maybe what?"

"You know…" Cameron prompted, "I'm trying to get the answer out of you because my calculations say the possibility is incredibly low, but I have that thing Sarah calls a 'gut instinct' that I might be right. And I want to see if it's sane enough to reassure me that I know where I'm going."

"Cameron, I know you're sane, but I have no clue what you're talking about," John said, grabbing a handful of her cereal, "What are you saying?"

She grabbed a piece of scrap paper and pen and wrote down the number. John looked it over, not quite understanding.

"Think about it," Cameron looked slyly at him, "Who is another awkward person we know?"

"Well, not Brad, not Morris…wait, the initials, have to stick with that…" John said. Then it hit him. "Wait, Cam, what was that other one. There was another from the W line, right?"

"Yes, designated 'T'."

"Son of a bitch, you're right. You've gotta be," John slapped his palm down on the desk, "Damn, we gotta see if this is legit!" he got up excitedly and walked over to his nightstand, retrieving his M&P pistol and stuffing it into his waistline.

"Get your M4 and load it with XM1009 rounds, just in case we're wrong," Cameron advised, "Keep it in the car though."

"What's going on?" Sarah asked, alarmed as Cameron and an armed John came down the stairs.

"We may have found the informant," Cameron said with little emotion, "John's going armed just in case something happens. No one is ever safe, right?"

"Alright," Sarah turned quickly around to get ready, "Give me five minutes and Derek and I will be good to go."

"No!" Cameron cautioned sternly, "No, this is something for John and I; if something goes wrong, we'll be the best ones to explain our way out."

"You'll need backup, though," Sarah argued.

"Less than a ten percent chance of armed engagement. The rifle is just a precaution," Cameron replied, pulling on a pair of combat boots, "We'll see you later. Can you order a pizza or something for dinner? But not from Dominos because they taste like cardboard," she said as John and her left.

"Cam, you should slow down," John advised as he looked over at the speedometer and saw that she was going 50 in a 25, "the last thing we need right now is to get pulled over when I have dreaded 'weapon not suited for sporting purposes' in the car."

"Sorry, I got excited I guess," Cameron applied the breaks, "'Weapon not suited for sporting purposes?' Sure, but what does that have to do with anything?"

"California's stance on the right to bear arms is that it applies only to the military and police, so civilians are only allowed to own hunting rifles and some pistols," John rolled his eyes.

"That doesn't make sense. It goes without saying that the military and police would be allowed to have weapons. Why would the Constitution have that clause unless it was to specifically denote that civilians were allowed to arm themselves?" Cameron pointed out.

"I don't know. There's a lot of weird thinking in this state," John said, "Turn here."

"I know," she sighed, "I've memorized it."

"Right."

John could not believe this. He was not sure if it was denial, ignorance, or fear of being labeled as crazy if he was wrong, but he should have seen it; so many hints had been dropped, so many clues and behavioral issues had pointed to this conclusion; it had to be the case. "So, how are we going to do this?"

Cameron thought for a moment, "I don't know. I'm not the best source of information on how to approach a social situation."

"Well," John said, "We'd better figure it out soon because we're here and they're going to get suspicious if we just sit here."

Cameron put the truck into park and looked at the house. "It doesn't look like anybody is here."

"Tom is gone, I think she's here though," John replied as he undid his seatbelt and got out of the truck. It did seem pretty quiet though. Granted, the neighborhood was generally pretty low key and most people were probably either at church, asleep, or at a prom party this Sunday morning, so really who knew? A few kids were running around in the yard a couple of houses down and Cameron was keeping a close eye on them, making sure that nobody gave them a strange look that could indicate that something was wrong. John kept an eye on Cameron because, though she had emotions and attachments, he was still unsure of whether or not her terminator instinct to kill without remorse was gone or reigned in.

"Children are kind of annoying and loud," Cameron stated as they walked toward the front door, "But…cute," she smiled, "I sometimes wish I could be a mother someday, but I can't reproduce."

John nodded as they got the front stoop, "Maybe we can talk about this later, but let's stay focused, though."

"I am focused," Cameron replied, an edge of sensitivity in her voice (she was not into being criticized just yet), "I'm just trying to keep the mood light. I'm sorry."

"That's okay," John rang the doorbell and stood to the side of the frame.

"Out of the kill zone; that's smart," Cameron commented, "If we're wrong, what should be our excuse for being here?"

John tapped his foot and looked around again, instinctively patting the pistol over his shirt. There were many ways that this could go wrong. She could actually be working for Skynet, or maybe she was who she said she was and would call the cops, or…well that was just the tip of the iceberg.

Cameron rang the doorbell again and stood off to the side, shaking a little bit.

"You okay, Pretty Girl?" John put his hand on her shoulder.

"I'm worried that Cromartie or another terminator got to them first and we'll never find out what causes Judgment Day," she shook her head sadly, "I'll do anything to prevent it…what is taking so long? I thought you said she was home!" she looked severely at John, then softened up and dropped her head, "I'm sorry. I'm really sorry, John, I didn't mean to snap, I'm just…"

"Cam, it's okay," John comforted before she burst into tears, "Just calm down." It was weird; _he_ was supposed to be the emotional one and not the terminator!

"Let's go see if we can get inside. We can find evidence whether or not this is a…a…" she stuttered trying to remember the expression for pursuing a bad lead.

"Wild goose chase?" John filled in.

"Yes. We need to get inside and see if there is evidence that will prove whether or not this is a wild goose chase," she began to make for the side of the house.

"Whoa, Cam, no!" John followed after her, "Cam, what if they _are_ home?"

"We've done worse than this," Cameron reasoned as they rounded the corner to the backyard and approached the bulkhead, "We're just going to look around."

"Cameron, calm down…please," John put his hands on her shoulders, "I know you're worried; I am too. I just don't want this to end in a shootout. Come on, what would you do if you found a strange person in our house?"

Cameron sighed and leaned back on John, who had to shoot his foot out to keep from stumbling from the sudden increased weight, "I understand your concern, but…I don't know, I'm very anxious right now. I need peace of mind."

_I hope Uncle Bob can make some terminator Prozac,_ John thought. "We'll get it figured out. We'll call them later."

"No," Cameron grabbed the bulkhead door and easily tore it off, "I need to know. John, please come with me."

Left with no choice but to follow, John, descended down into the basement behind his cyborg love. The basement was pretty typical overall; there were old clothes and boxes in the corner, a pile of old VHS tapes and a broken VCR. A rusty refrigerator sat on the other side, next to the water heater. The cracked, moldy concrete floor was covered in dust and rodent droppings that seemed to decorate much of the basement, including the top of the washer and dryer. Naturally, the entire basement smelled musty; John really did not mind it; it was not a bad smell and the dark, messy space was to be expected. God help the person who got stuck in the Connors' mess of a basement!

"I can barely see a thing, Cam. You've got the night vision; anything suspicious?" he asked.

"So far, nothing," Cameron replied, scratching her head, "something just landed in my hair. Is there a bat or something that might have defecated on me?"

"Hmm," John ran his hands through her silky brown hair, brushing out a bit of dust and cobweb, "No, just dust. Anyway, there's nothing here…what are we doing anyway?"

"I need to know if we're right," Cameron replied, sounding distracted as she continued to scan the room.

"I thought you needed to know if they were still alive?"

"John!" her shaking voice was just below a shout, which she realized immediately, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to yell. I'm anxious and it was a reaction. I…I just need to…"

John threw his hand up to her mouth as a board creaked overhead.

"Urm serry…" she apologized again for the outburst with Johns fingers still planted on her lips.

"Shhh! Let's just go!" John hissed.

"Okay, we'll go knock on the door and…"

Suddenly, the basement door opened and someone began to descend the stairs. Silently, Cameron grabbed John and pulled him behind the washing machine. The basement was quite dark and they were out of the stream of light coming from the broken bulkhead door, but there was obvious signs of breaking and entering, so their seeker would not leave quickly.

"Maybe they'll think we booked it when they opened the door," John whispered.

"Shh," Cameron held her finger up to her mouth.

The person got to the bottom of the steps. John saw that it was a tall, slender female figure standing in the darkness, her fists clenched as she scanned the room.

_I'm a dead man,_ John thought as he saw her walk to the opposite side of the basement and looked under a blanket that was draped over a table. The furnace, on that side of the basement, clicked on, so John figured it would be okay to talk.

"Okay, she's alive, let's get out of here…" he cut himself off as Cheri, still on the other side of the basement, spun around and advanced toward his voice, her face without any expression.

"Cheri, wait," John stood up just as she reached him, obviously not recognizing him. Suddenly, Cameron jumped in between then and held her arms out.

"Please, stop…" she said just as Cheri grabbed her arms in a vice like grip. Immediately, Cameron's combat mode kicked in and she began to defend herself, twisting her arms to escape from Cheri's grip. But John's former prom date had her too tightly and she quickly whipped her hips and threw Cameron across the basement.

John knew Cheri would not hurt him normally, but he figured it would be best to not be near her like this. He dived out of her way and began to scramble toward Cameron.

"Cheri, stop!" he ordered as she followed after him, "Cheri!"

Just as she reached him, Cameron recovered and delivered a kick to Cheri's abdomen, sending her flying across the basement into dryer. Cameron did not want to destroy her, so she backed off her strength down to about seventy-five percent. Nonetheless, it was enough.

"We're not here to hurt you," Cameron said, "We need to talk."

"Who are you? My night vision was damaged awhile ago. Identify yourselves!" Cheri ordered.

"It's John and Cameron," John said.

"Oh," Cheri suddenly relaxed, "What are you doing in my basement? I don't have anything valuable except a few dresses and a necklace," she sounded _very_ disappointed. Her new friends had burglarized her house!

"We're not here to rob you," Cameron said with a laugh, "we…" she sighed, "actually I was worried. I wanted us to get to you before another one did, so I panicked and insisted that we check immediately."

"Wait, before another 'what' got to me?" Cheri said, sounding a bit angry, "Who do you guys think you are? Who do you think _I_ am?"

Cheri sounded sincere, as though she truly did not know what they were talking about, but after John saw what she had done to Cameron, and then what Cameron did to her, he knew they were right. There was no question. The attractive silhouette was of someone just like Cameron: Someone who had learned to become human. Someone who he would have never guessed was machine until he saw it with his own eyes.

"Cheri, can you come into the light?" John asked. Quickly, though not threateningly, she stepped toward the open bulkhead door, her pretty features seeming to slowly materialize under the light. "Cheri…I…" John stopped and thought for a moment, "My name is not John Baum…it's John Connor. I'm who you're looking for."

Cheri stared at him for a second. John knew she was conducting a scan of his facial features. With facial recognition confirmed, CW6132026, a.k.a Cheri Westin, flashed the blue lights behind her mechanical eyes.


	4. Running From the War

_This is a LONG chapter…bear with me. Sorry for the delay, and there's more to come, but I wanted to make sure that nobody thought I was dead or something…_

Running From the War

Cromartie had been tricked. Morris Ordoñez, the individual identified in the internet café two weeks ago, had lied to him. He would become a low level member of the Resistance someday, but was of such little importance he was not targeted for termination. However, Cromartie had checked on the John Baum whose address he had been given and it was a negative ID. But, after conducting a search of the high school that Morris had named where he was a schoolmate with John Baum, Cromartie found there was no Morris Ordoñez at the school name that was given. However, there was one other school that had both a Morris Ordoñez and a John Baum…

The terminator waited outside Morris's house, not seeming at all to worry about blending in. The low income neighborhood was mostly filled with immigrant and first generation families from Mexico and Central America, so a massive white man standing on the curb looking official did catch a lot of attention. Many probably assumed that he was a cop; arrests in the neighborhood, though not uncommon, were not a daily occurrence. A few wannabe gangsters, who were basically just neighborhood bullies, ran around beating up kids for their bikes or dealing pot here and there. But overall, it was not a horrible place.

Morris walked out the front door of his house, his mother shouting at him in Spanish to clean his room as soon as he got home. The short Mexican kid walked up his sidewalk, oblivious to the return of the creepy guy advancing toward him. Someone had told him that his crush, Cameron Baum, had gone to the prom with the notorious womanizer Brad Swanson, so Morris was not in a great move. If Brad hadn't swept her off her feet to begin with, a night in bed would have easily swayed Cameron's devotion to him. This sucked; his hot potential girlfriend was probably already taken…

"You lied to me," Cromartie stated, causing Morris to nearly jump out of his skin.

Morris looked up at the tall, intimidating man. The cold, lifeless eyes bore into his soul, and Morris nearly peed his pants. Who was this guy? He did look familiar and he did not look like the type of person that he would lie to…or in any way make angry.

"Dude…do I…do I know you?" Morris stammered, looking around the street to make sure that there were witnesses to his upcoming murder. There were a few guys from down the street, but they were gangsters and probably would not rat out this guy for killing Morris, so the small Latino teenager had given up hope.

"We made contact three weeks ago at an internet café. You inquired as to why I was seeking John Baum and you gave me the name of your school. Upon investigation of the John Baum enrolled in said school, I conducted another investigation on you and found that you did not go to the school that you claimed, so if you did know a John Baum as you claimed, it was the other one on the list that I had found," Cromartie explained.

"What do you want with John, Man?" Morris asked, cracking his knuckles nervously, "He's a good guy; I'm kinda dating his sister, too," he knew he was lying about this, but in his own mind, Cameron was as nuts about him as he was about her.

"Where does he live?" Cromartie pressed.

"I don't know."

Cromartie's hand shot out and grabbed Morris's shirt and lifted him in the air. Morris let out a shriek and began to kick his legs like a child. This was it, he was a dead man! The normally boring neighborhood was suddenly very beautiful, as he realized this was his last view. But Cromartie continued his interrogation.

"Where does John Baum live?" he asked simply.

"I DON'T KNOW, MAN!" Morris cried out, "I seriously don't."

"Do you know anyone who does?"

"I don't know. Nobody knows anything about them!"

"When did you see them last?" Cromartie did not seem to notice or care that people were beginning to look on with concern at the scene.

"I…I think like a month ago!" Morris said truthfully, "Can you put me down?"

Cromartie released the teenager; Morris was not expecting this so suddenly, so he landed on his butt with a grunt.

"Has there been any events at your school that John Baum or his sister may have taken part in?" the terminator leaned over menacingly, threatening to hoist Morris up again, or maybe do something even more painful.

"Uh…the prom was last night," Morris said as he dusted himself off, "I know Cameron went, I didn't hear if John did though."

Cromartie cocked his head, his expression not changing, "Cameron is his sister?"

"Yeah."

"Who accompanied her to the prom?"

"Brad Swanson. He's like a super-jock," Morris replied with a hint of distaste. Morris had been bullied and teased by Brad throughout most of middle school and, though they never really crossed paths now, he still hated him.

Cromartie knew that the terminator that was assigned to protect John Connor went by the name Cameron, so it was highly probable that this was the one he was looking for. However, he would have to confirm. "Where does Brad Swanson reside?"

"Dude, I don't…" Morris winced, then thought about it and realized that he did not want to be destroyed just yet, "He's about five miles from here, over on Shepard's Landing. Just look for the house with a lot of drunk kids."

"Thank you for your cooperation," Cromartie said as he turned to leave the bewildered Mexican boy.

* * *

"So, should we go upstairs?" Cameron asked, "I think we need to discuss some things."

"Yes, we need to," Cheri replied, "If you act within the next two weeks, three days, and five hours, you can prevent Judgment Day by the end of the summer."

John followed the two female terminators up the basement steps to the Westins' kitchen.

"I'm assuming that that the TW unit is here too," Cameron said.

"Yes. But we found it best that he pose as my father, although it is obvious that our cover was inadequate as he was severely damaged by a T-888 and unable to show himself in public while his epidural healed. The damage was very extensive," Cheri said robotically.

Cameron rolled her eyes, "Okay, I want to tell you, I'm not faking emotions or personality and I went off program awhile ago. Is this you, or are you acting like a terminator because you think we expect it?"

"Um, I guess I'm just falling back into my old ways," Cheri forced a laugh as they sat down at the kitchen table, "I've developed hunger, worry, aspiration for personal betterment, and sexual desire since I nearly was destroyed by the triple eight last summer. By the way, John, you really disappointed me last night. I was looking forward to having a night of sexual relations. You have no idea how good…"

"Okay, okay," John held up his hand, blushing terribly, "that's enough." That was pretty damn awkward, especially to Cameron, who seemed to be a little uncomfortable with the thought of Cheri and John making love.

"You're a terminator as well, Cameron. What have you developed in terms of emotions?"

Cameron smiled proudly, "Everything."

Cheri nodded, "Why did you turn down sex with Brad, then?"

Cameron's eyes shot open wide, "What?" she asked incredulously. How could anybody ask such an insensitive question? "John," she asked quietly, "Was I ever this blunt?"

"Uh…" John thought for moment, then nodded, "Yeah. Yeah you were…sometimes worse. But," he added quickly before she got upset, "We live and learn."

"I figured you would want sexual gratification. Brad is known to be quite virile and you had a great opportunity. It makes senses if you were human and worried about an unwanted pregnancy…"

"I didn't love him," Cameron said quickly, "It would have just been lust if I did sleep with him."

"So?"

"Okay, can we get on with this?" John rolled his eyes.

_Thank you_, Cameron thought.

Cheri got serious once again, "Tell me what you know so far then."

"In terms of…what?" John prompted.

"Are you aware of the existence of the Turk and its significance?"

"Yes. We believe that its line of code will be used to develop Skynet," Cameron nodded and tapped her fingers on the table, "what we don't know is how, when, and who we have to stop from doing it."

"The concept of an automated missile defense system that would be free from human error and biased judgment has been on the table since the mid-nineteen eighties. However, with the demise of an imminent threat from nuclear tipped ballistic missiles, it has been difficult to justify a three hundred billion dollar missile system. But, for the last five years, a number of think tanks have taken into account the mistakes that led to the Iraq War, the mishandling of missions by leaders since September Eleventh, and many left-wing politicians who are alleging war crimes by American troops, and concluded that emotion and 'principal,' rather than strict logic, was the problem behind decisions being made for the defense of the nation. Also, recruitment, training, equipping, housing, paying, and feeding soldiers, as well as treating the wounded, maintaining equipment, and gathering intelligence was costing a staggering a nineteen billion dollars a month and taking thousands of man hours.

"What was needed, it was concluded, was a completely automated military, both conventional and nuclear. Everything, from infantry to ballistic missile submarines, should be run by machines that make decisions by calculations, would not have any need for compassion or emotion, and were simply tools for accomplishing a mission. No humans to sacrifice; it was estimated that the cost of such a program would be approximately six hundred billion dollars to implement, but within five years, the amount saved from the dismantling of the human military would pay for the new army," Cheri paused, making sure that Cameron and John were following. John was listening intently and Cameron looked like she had shut down altogether. Apparently, John noticed this too.

"Cameron?" John waved his hand in front of her face. Her old, terminator blank stare had returned and John was fearing that something happened to the brain/CPU power balance that had taken so long to shift. He was worried that his love was once again an emotionless cyborg.

"What?" Cameron looked over at him.

"Are you okay? Did something happen to your brain-CPU thing?" John asked.

"Uh…no, why do you ask?"

"You looked…like you used to. No offense."

To his relief, Cameron rolled her eyes and smiled, "I'm recording, freak! This is how I look when I'm concentrating," she explained.

"Oh," John was not sure if he should be embarrassed or not.

"Yeah, so shut up; I'm trying to listen."

John felt her grasp his hand under the table and curl her fingers among his affectionately, so he knew she was not mad; more amused if anything. At any rate, his heart began to beat faster, as it did every time she touched him. _God, I love you, Cameron,_ he thought, _Okay, John. Let's be like Cameron and listen to Cheri._ "So, wait, my understanding was that it was a strategic defense system that got out of control then developed a conventional wing," he said.

"Originally, that was the thought, but soon with the prompting of California Attorney General John Marius, the idea of replacing the military completely with an artificial intelligence became popular," Cheri explained.

"That guy is a nut. How the hell does he get anyone to listen to him?" John asked. He did not pay attention to politics much, but Marius was a name that most people in California knew, and either loved or despised; John was in the latter camp. He was actually glad to hear that the idiot was involved in this.

"He is a well known hater of the military," Cheri replied, "He has been pushing for years to dissolve the California National Guard and to deny veteran's benefits and to not recognize the Montgomery G.I. bill in the state. Because of his reputation, Skynet sent a T triple eight, alias: Cromartie, to make contact with him."

Cameron grimaced and shook her head, "Yeah, Cromartie. We've had a ton of run-ins with him. His primary duty is also to terminate John."

Cheri nodded in agreement, "Yes, I know that. He was also assigned to speak with Marius, introduce himself as an experimental cyborg soldier left from Cyberdyne and that his calculations concluded the same thing: That the current U.S. military was inadequate, improperly staffed, and prone to failure and war crimes. He told him when and how to get the Turk, since Andrew Goode was already dead. So Marius contracted Sarkissian to steal the Turk and make the situation look like a simple weapons or computer theft. He did not tell Sarkissian that he was setting him up and arranged for him to meet and be arrested. When that happened earlier this month, Marius was made to look like a hero."

Cheri paused and brushed an eyelash off her cheek. John was waiting for her to continue, but she did not seem to understand that they had not put everything together.

"So, go on," John pushed.

"In five days, Marius will feed information to the Taliban in Afghanistan about a patrol by a taskforce of U.S. Army Rangers and 1st Special Forces Operational Detachment-Delta operatives inside the Pakistani border. They will be ambushed and twenty-five will be killed, and the rest will be captured and beheaded on film. It will be the worst disaster in the history of the United States Special Operations Forces. A week after this, there will be a massive bombing of a group of Afghan villages, and a group of mercenaries, dressed as American soldiers, will slaughter all the survivors, seemingly in retaliation for the killing of their brothers-in-arms. This will cause an outrage, and Marius will seize the opportunity to solidify his position in the presidential race, campaigning on the issue that the military is incompetent and immoral. However, as a state attorney general, he has no power to implement such a system, but Skynet itself has sent back terminators, under the guise of a research and development team, to manufacture a small sample group of T-600s, using the line of code from the Turk to create their programming.

"This program will get laughed at first by most politicians, but Marius will keep bringing it up in his campaign. Despite the opposition, the military then decides to test the T-600 units in Iraq. In less than three months, they have a perfect operational record, totaling five hundred kills and no losses. Three high profile insurgent leaders are also captured. It is after this that the military is impressed by the performance of the 600s, and sends them into Pakistan to hunt for Osama bin Laden. Within a week, they find him and terminate him, as well as al-Zawaheri, and bin Laden's sons. Marius' approval ratings shoot up and he wins every state in the primaries by twenty points or more. He then goes onto win the presidential election, carrying thirty-five states. He immediately withdraws all U.S. troops from overseas and disbands the entire military except for the National Guard and the now one thousand strong T-600 force. By 2010, with the help of factories built by terminators sent back, every fighting unit is automated, though still under the command of human beings. That changes in 2011, when the Turk is finally developed into Skynet: A satellite coordinated artificial command system. Human decisions are completely removed from all defense systems, and Skynet begins to learn and grow…and than you know what happens."

John and Cameron looked at each other. So this is exactly what happened. They were right about the Turk becoming Skynet. But how now were they to stop it?

"This is good, but we need numbers, locations, times, and ways to prevent some of these tragedies," John said, "If we can prevent this massacre of the Rangers and Delta Force, that will make it harder to justify what Marius is pushing for."

"Getting to SOCOM will be difficult," Cheri advised, "it is possible that bin Laden himself is in the region and that is the reason for the mission, so it is highly classified. It would be better to try and just destroy the Turk."

John thought for a moment. This was horrible on two levels: First it would lead to the adoption of the Turk as the father of Skynet, second, over fifty families would be getting the dreadful knock at the door, telling them that their son, father, or husband was not going to be coming home. "No," he said flatly, "We're not going to sit back and let the men who are putting their lives on the line for their country get slaughtered by a bunch of terrorists."

"Impossible," Cheri folded her arms, "You won't be able to break into the NSA or SOCOM server, and they will never believe you when you tell them they are walking into an ambush. Besides, even if this massacre does not happen, it does not assure that Judgment Day will not come."

Cameron put her face in her hands and shook her head. This was seeming impossible. They had their informant, and unlike what Osborn claimed, it was not enough. Judgment Day would happen, but she could not go back to that life…she _would not!_ "She's right, John. The odds are too great. I mean, even if we did prevent the massacre, things can still happen. The government is always trying to push for artificial intelligence systems, especially for national defense. Plus," she grimaced, "after that, then what? We change the future, then everything she's saying makes no difference, because things will change and she won't know…"

"We _can't!_" John slapped his palm down on the table, "We need to do _everything_ possible to prevent this!"

Cheri and Cameron looked at each other and shook their heads. To a human, this was about a moral victory, to Cheri saving the soldiers was irrelevant, and to Cameron, as much as she wanted to, she saw it as impossible.

"I can hack in and reroute a satellite," John suggested, "they wouldn't even know it, but they'd get the images early."

"Too risky, with no payoff," Cheri replied simply, "John, I am not your fellow fighter, and I hold no alliance to the Human Resistance technically, but I am on your side and I want you to defeat Skynet. You cannot be chasing dreams like this or you will get too off track in trying to treat the symptom instead of the disease."

Suddenly, the front door swung open. Reacting on training alone, John shot out of the line of sight to the door as Cameron drew her pistol faster than Wild Bill Hickock and pointed at the figure entering. A muscular man appearing in his late twenties or early thirties entered, simultaneously pulling back his jacket and reaching for his concealed sidearm.

"Cameron! Tom! No!" Cheri yelled, shooting out of her seat. She quickly pulled Cameron's arm down. Immediately, Cameron snapped out of combat mode as she realized what was going on. "Dad," Cheri cautioned, "the area is clear, she presents no threat."

Tom Westin placed his Sig Sauer back in his belt and stood down. "You should have warned me you were having guests. She could have been killed," he said matter-of-factly, not an ounce of emotion in his voice.

"Not her," John walked back into the kitchen to meet with Tom, who had already conducted his scan of John's protector.

"You are a TOK-715, but you do not come up in my files as part of our council," he said to her.

"I was sent to terminate John Connor and infiltrated Tech Com in 2027, but I defected and had my memory erased. I was then assigned to protect John Connor in this time," Cameron explained, "But I have since gone rogue and I am not following any directives, so I am protecting John and fighting Skynet by choice."

"I thought you were supposed to be on a business trip," John stated.

"Yes," Tom replied, "I arrived back here at 0813 hours this morning. Did you stay the night and have sexual relations with Cheri?"

"No, I did not," John was starting to not get phased by the terminator bluntness, "Where did you go?" John asked.

"My sales job is only to earn money to pay rent for this house. My main job is to provide increased security for Cheri. So, I had a meeting in San Diego."

Realizing that everything was safe in the small but tidy house, Cameron spoke up, "So, John, what do we do now?"

"I'm trying to find a way that we could get into one of the intelligence computers and broadcast…"

"John, it's pointless," Cameron interrupted, immediately hoping that she didn't sound too harsh, "We have to find another way." She looked over at her fellow terminators, but she knew that they were not going to give any advice. Cheri had no empathy and Tom had no emotions, period. Then something came to her, "You said Attorney General John Marius is the one who feeds information to the Taliban, correct?" she asked Cheri.

"Yes," Cheri and her "dad" answered in unison.

"When does he do this?"

"His mistress's son is an officer with Naval Intelligence, but he is very corrupt, and has been offered a high position in Marius' cabinet in exchange for information on important missions. He is working directly with Marius. Tomorrow at 1632 hours local time, Lieutenant Commander will call Marius and inform him of the impending mission. Marius will then instruct him to give all known information to a local Taliban leader, who will forward it to the parties preparing to battle the American Special Operations Forces," Cheri said.

"Well," Cameron thought for a moment, her emotional brain thinking of the idea and the lives it would save, and her CPU calculating how it should be done and the chance for success, "Maybe we just need to stop Marius. John, if we leave in about two hours or so, we could make it to Sacramento by tonight."

"Whoa!" John held his hand out in a stop signal, "We can't just assassinate the Attorney General. I mean, yeah, he's a corrupt, criminal nut, but we can't make him a martyr."

"I know, I'm not thinking that we'll terminate him," Cameron replied quietly, "But we have phone bugs. We could intercept his call and make sure everybody knows."

Cheri cocked her head, "Let everyone know?"

"Anonymously send the recording to SOCOM, or JSOC, or the CIA. At least it will get his accomplice caught and turn suspicion onto him."

John nodded and looked over at Cheri and her "father," "It could work," he said thoughtfully, "It's worth a try."

Cheri shook her head again, "I still say it's irrelevant and it won't prevent Judgment Day."

"That's fine," Cameron replied, "But we'll still do it. Now, there's one more thing we need to know. Where the Turk is now, and where it will be from now until Judgment Day."

Offering a smile, Cheri walked back to the kitchen with Cameron following. "This will be a lot of boring information, John," she told him, "Only Cameron will be able to record all this information anyway. You can make yourself comfortable if you want."

* * *

The home of Bradford Sr. and Patricia Swanson looked like it had been the scene of a war, but Cromartie did not see any burn marks, bullet holes, or signs of explosions. Nonetheless, there was trash everywhere, vomit on the porch and in the grass, and a couple intoxicated teenagers stumbling around. As he approached the front door, many of the partiers looked at him with a mix of terror and drunken awe.

"Dude, you Brad's dad?" a longhaired kid with a goatee asked, holding his head from the massive hangover.

"No," Cromartie replied, "Where is Brad Swanson?"

"I think he's in his room, he got fuckin' wasted after John Baum kicked the shit out of him last night."

The terminator cocked his head. Had he been human, he probably would have been excited to learn that he had a lead; as it was though, it caused no emotional impact. "Why did John Baum kick the shit out of him?" he asked.

"Brad was dating Cameron, John's sister, and she thought he put roofies in her beer, and she told him that and so John beat Brad up. It was pretty cool!" the guy replied, squeezing his eyes shut tighter due to the effects of his hangover.

"Thank you for your cooperation," the cyborg said as he continued into the house.

Hell had frozen over, according to the partygoers; Brad Swanson, of all people, had not gotten laid on prom night. After getting the crap kicked out of him, he did get some sympathy from his ex, Jenna West, but even she opted to turn down his advances. He had also tried with prom queen Madison, but she had no intentions of sleeping with Brad either. Instead, over the course of the night, he drank about seven beers and took at least five shots of tequila, in addition to taking a few hits off of Corey's bong. Somehow, he managed to drag himself back up to his room and collapse in his bed sometime around 5 a.m. It was now after 1:30 p.m and he was still out, so he did not hear the heavy pounding on the door at first.

"Yo, dude, let me get him, he'll never wake up like that," Another friend, Mitch, offered as Cromartie continued to pound away at Brad's bedroom door. Mitch opened the door and casually walked up to the bed, where a shirtless Brad was sprawled on top of the covers, the left side of his face swollen black and blue. This was a less than desirable way to be caught by your friends, and if he were awake, he would be quite angry if any girl happened to see him; his friend did not really care though.

"Hey, Douche!" Mitch smacked Brad in the back of the head, causing the high school Casanova to stir and grunt. "Dude, wake your ass up. You've got company."

Brad let out groan as he opened his left eye (his right was nearly swollen shut. "Who is it?" then he realized something as he shot up and tried to fix his hair, "I swear, Mitch, if you brought a bitch in here when I just woke up, I'm going to…ow, fuck! My head feels like…God damn it, Mitch, go get me an Advil or something!"

"Brad, man, who is this guy? Can you quit with the crap and tell me what's going on?" Mitch was exasperated.

Brad looked over at the strange, threatening figure standing in his doorway. He might normally have been scared but right now, he was just too hung over. "Who the hell are you?"

"My name is Cromartie," the terminator answered, "I have some questions."

Alright, _now_ Brad was a little nervous; this guy was probably a cop and he knew there was a lot of underage drinking (naturally) going on, he had roofies in his drawer, pot downstairs, and who knew what else his friends had brought. Still, he would tried and play it cool, even without a shirt on and tuxedo pants stained with various liquors. "What do you want to know?" he asked, folding his arms.

"Did you go to the prom with Cameron Baum?" Cromartie asked.

A jolt of panic hit Brad, "Yeah. Why?"

"Where does she live?"

"Uh," the half-naked high schooler thought for a moment, "I don't know. She would never let me drop her off at her house. I don't know where she lives."

"Who did her brother go the prom with?" Cromartie continued.

"Cheri…Westin," Brad had to take a second to recall her last name.

"Where does she live?"

"Ummm…oh, I actually do know this. I was driving home on Friday and I drove past her house and she was just going inside. She's over on Masterson Drive," Brad said, walking over to his dresser and grabbing a t-shirt.

"Thank you," Cromartie turned and left without another word.

* * *

"That's all," Cheri concluded. It was a long, long list of information, but Cameron still retained her ability to record such long, boring lists.

"Okay, just one question," Cameron asked, "If both of you knew all of this…"

"Only she knew," Tom corrected, "I was her guardian."

"Alright then," Cameron normally would understand and be responsible for splitting hairs and details, but right now, she did not care. She just wanted the big picture. "If you knew about this, Cheri, why haven't you been in the process of trying to stop Judgment Day?"

Cheri looked slightly insulted, but she answered the question nonetheless, "There are three other TOKs with the knowledge I have, four now including yourself. Only I am still alive. My termination is considered a higher priority than that of John. We also cannot take the chance that a close human friend is not actually another unit sent to terminate me before I can make contact with John Connor.

"Skynet has undoubtedly placed units around the Turk and in both passive and active protection of important figures in the development of the program, so it would have been highly dangerous and foolhardy for just Tom and I to set out alone and try to prevent Judgment Day before we passed on our knowledge to John Connor. Those were my orders."

Cameron cocked her head and looked thoughtfully at Cheri. It was at that moment that she realized just how different she (Cameron) was…just how different TOKs were in general. All terminators that had a learning mode allowed (for infiltration) developed some series of mannerisms from what they learned, but only TOKs, it seemed, developed unique personalities. Cheri had turned out to be shy, blunt, and kind of horny. Cameron was talkative, sensitive, and affectionate; they came from the same blank slate, with the same limitations, but still developed in their own ways.

"Whose orders?" John asked as he joined the two attractive cyborgs in the kitchen.

"Our council," Cheri replied, "When we split off from Skynet, we banded together and processed the best procedures of success, and we voted to adopt these procedures. Tom and I, to my knowledge, are the last two left."

John nodded, "So, are you with us now? I'm not the leader of the Human Resistance, remember."

Cheri smiled seductively, "No, you most certainly are not the same man who we heard about in the future. If you were, you would have woken this morning beside me, naked," she inhaled and leaned against the wall, looking like a model, "having just had the best sex you ever will have."

John turned red and began to sweat a little under his collar. "This is awkward," he whispered to himself, which Cameron heard and nodded to in agreement. "Cheri, uh, can we dispense with trying to seduce me? And can you answer my question of who you're with now?"

Cheri frowned for a second and looked over at Tom, who appeared to be spacing out; he was evidently in standby mode. Why would she be trying to get opinions from him in the first place? He was progressing very slowly in his emotions. She was on her own. She thought she knew what was needed; John was not the John of the future, but his nature _had_ to be there. She could pry him away from Cameron as long as she turned the heat up. She already released pheromones unconsciously, and she could up that release purposely if she wished to.

"John, can I speak with you alone?" Cheri motioned him toward her bedroom.

_Oh no,_ John thought, _Wait, there's got to be a reason for this. She doesn't just expect me to just leave Cameron standing here while we go and…do it. Does she?_

"Alright," he said, "why can't Cameron come along?"

"Don't worry," Cheri smiled, "she can make herself comfortable." She began walking down the hall with John behind her, keeping his eyes trained on the back of Cheri's head, not looking down at all. John then turned around to see Cameron still standing there, a look of worry and hurt on her face as she watched him follow Cheri. Without debating for a moment, he turned around and walked back to his love.

"What's wrong?" he asked quietly, getting very close to her, hoping Cheri would not get involved, "I'm not going to do anything. I'm just going to see what she wants."

"I know, but I don't trust her," Cameron replied with a shaky voice, now realizing just how John must have felt the night before when she went into Brad's room, "And I trust you…but do _you_ trust you?"

John leaned in close and whispered in Cameron's ear, "I don't trust her either. But I'm not even tempted by her right now. And if I am, I'll leave the room right away."

"She's increasing her output of pheromones," Cameron replied, wondering if she should do the same thing, but then realizing that she had lost the ability to consciously do so, "You'll have a lot of trouble resisting."

"I promise," John took her hand and clasped it between his, "I won't do anything, I promise. I'm not going to leave you high and dry, okay?"

Cameron thought for a moment, then leaned forward and offered her lips to John, which, with a smile, he gladly kissed, wondering about the reason for this. They let this one linger for a little longer, then separated slowly after about four seconds. "There," she whispered glancing quickly over at Cheri, whose confident, somewhat lusty smile had disappeared at seeing the kiss, "I don't think she'll make a move now," She had begun to smile, her face more relaxed.

John's head was in a whirl now; Cameron was a drug to him and he once again had that feeling of euphoria that came over him every time she kissed him. _Yeah, she feels the same way about me,_ he told himself as he made his way down the hall to join Cheri,_ She has to…she's been attached to me all day, and she wanted me to kiss her…twice now. After we're done here, I'll try again with her…but then again, she does things her own way. I can't judge her behavior according what most humans would do…I try again now, she might take it wrong and boom! We're back to where we were a month ago._

When John entered her room, Cheri had trouble looking at him. She was using everything at her disposal to try and work on John's biological and mental state, but he seemed too far-gone with…other thoughts. John knew what was up just seconds before Cheri told him.

"You don't see Cameron as a sister," she stated in a monotone voice.

"What do you mean?" John was clearly confused. He leaned against Cheri's dresser, which was scary-clean, sparkling like she was expecting a drill sergeant to inspect it.

"You're in love with her," Cheri just did not like saying those words, and John's response made it worse.

"Yes, very much," he replied simply, knowing that even this was an understatement.

"You always have been. That's why you vomited last night when you thought she was having sex with Brad."

"Yes," John said again.

"After how she treated you, how could you still love her?" Cheri, like most terminators, was not quite grasping the difference between love and lust, and seemed to think that "easy targets" were the best to pursue.

"It's unconditional. I love her good points and accept her flaws because I know that she wants to improve herself," he explained.

"But I…"

"That's just the way it is. That's the way us humans work…well, how we're supposed to. Now, getting back to my original question, are you going to join us?"

Cheri leaned back on the bed, obviously processing all that John had to say. Terminators were built to follow programming, nothing more; had John captured _her_, she would have been reprogrammed to fight for him; but here she was, a rogue, and the person who, on the day that she was created, was her master's sworn enemy, was now giving the choice of whether or not she wanted to join him. She knew that she was a free individual…and why would she want to give that up?

"We have a common enemy and a common goal, but for me, the war has ended," Cheri stated, "My mission is complete. All there is for me to do is to wait and hope that you succeed with what I told you. If you do, I can continue to learn and to blend in the best I can, and try to live as normal a life as a machine can."

"Yes, but…I dunno," John shook his head, "There's something I don't get, Cheri. If you knew all this, why didn't you take action and stop it yourself?"

"It was not my mission. My mission was to deliver the message to you."

"But you're rogue," John replied, a little incredulously, "You make your own decisions now."

"Yes, what is your point?"

"Then why didn't you go after Marius and whoever else is responsible?"

"Why should I?" Cheri responded irritably, "I have spent enough time trying to run from Tech Com soldiers and terminators. Either one of them will terminate me immediately. I have no reason that I would want to endanger myself when I can be safer and delivering the message to you. For me, as I said, the war is over."

Obviously, she had learned well from human beings…well, the bad parts. She was caring, yes, but also lustful and selfish. "Well…I think it should go without saying that this affects everyone. A global nuclear holocaust is not exactly a private matter," John said calmly, all the while thinking _Hell hath no fury,_ "I'm not saying you have to fight side-by-side with us, but why won't you at least start helping us?"

"I already told you. I'm done, the triple eight that was after me is dead, I'm leaving the fight," Cheri stood up, "I've spent my existence going into the fight, now I want to get away from it for once."

"I wanted nothing to do with it either; but it came to me. I don't know if I'm going to be this great leader that everyone thinks I'll be, but I do know that Judgment Day is coming, and someone has to do something about it, because Skynet is going to kill me whether I want to be part of this or not. Even if they weren't after me, Judgment Day will still come if we don't stop it. You can't run from this, Cheri. That's not a threat…it's just the truth," John finished.

"That's because you are John Connor. Now, I have learned that everyone has choices in their life, but some have more than others. Your choices were either to run and hide or to fight back; to either wait for Judgment Day and defeat Skynet, or fight now and prevent Skynet from ever being created. You had no way out. I, on the other hand, had three choices: I could fight for Skynet and terminate you, I could fight for the Resistance, or I could ally with the Resistance and then hold no obligations to them. The last is my choice. I want to exist, John. I don't have the luxury of a soul that will supposedly go to some great afterlife if I die, so I need to live for today. I want a long life before my power burns out."

Sighing and sitting down on the bed by her feet, John rubbed his forehead, trying to think of how to respond. He remembered his mother telling when he was younger about the nature of terminators. They felt no remorse or pity, and they could not be reasoned with or bargained with. But this was different, right? Nonetheless, this was going to be a tough nut to crack. John knew he was going to have to try and speak terminator language. "Tell me, Cheri, would you be okay with living in a post-Judgment Day world?"

Cheri shook her head, "No, that's why I'm here; to pass on information as to how it can be prevented. I absolutely do not want to live the way I used to. If you failed to prevent it, we would go back and try again."

"Okay, that's what I thought," John cut her off, "Now, tell me, what are the chances that me, Cameron, my Mom, my Uncle Derek, who was with Tech Com spec ops, two hybrids, a T Eight Hundred, and an FBI agent can prevent Judgment Day?"

"Calculated odds: Fifteen point four, four, two percent chance of total prevention of Judgment Day," Cheri's reply was methodic, much like Cameron in her early days.

"And if we add you and Tom into the equation?"

"The odds increase to only eighteen point three one five percent," Cheri shrugged, "You see, we make little difference."

"But, Cheri…"

"No, John. I have everything to live for and nothing to die for now. You already killed the unit assigned to terminate me, so I can just…"

"I _know_," John was getting exasperated, "But why? This doesn't make any sense."

"No," Cheri jumped up again, "What does not make sense is the fact that you were infatuated with me for almost seven months and then, without explanation, you suddenly lose interest in me. I start to gain an awareness of romance and sexual attraction, and you, the first boy I ever was truly attracted to, change your mind; you leave me with no one, knowing my nature, and knowing what I am, and I am supposed to thank you for it?"

"Let's not make this a personal issue, Cheri…"

"But it is! I would gladly fight beside you if we were together. But to you, I'm now nothing but a friend at best. But," she looked at him ferociously, "I guess that's just the nature of John Connor: lying, jumping from woman to woman, taking advantage of my weaknesses. I guess it's okay, I'm just a cyborg," Cheri's voice dripped with anger, hurt, and cynicism.

_Crap,_ John thought, _All I do is say the wrong damn thing!_ He hung his head, still a bit gunshy about how he came across to people…or emotional cyborgs. Suddenly, he began to hate himself again._ I'd actually be better off staying away from Cameron or else I'll just piss her off again. Why can't I…_

"Cheri," Cameron interrupted John's thoughts as she walked into the room, "I'm sorry I was eavesdropping, but I couldn't help overhearing you use a guilt trip. That's not fair. John did not do anything wrong. He can't force his feelings; no one can."

"That's easy for you to say," Cheri replied, with no regard for John standing right there, "He's smitten with you, not me."

John was getting understandably frustrated. His ultimate life goal, to stop Skynet, prevent the need for him to become the savior of mankind, and live relatively happily ever after with Cameron, needed as many people as possible. He was also fed up with others who showed apathy…be they machine or man.

"Cheri, we cannot make this personal," Cameron stated firmly, "You…"

"It has _always_ been personal!" Cheri suddenly sounded angry, "That's all that Tom and I have been fighting for. We do _not_ want to live in a post-Judgment Day world! We do not want to be hunted by both humans and terminators. We are doing what we are doing because we want to make a better life for ourselves. Frankly, we don't care one way or another about humanity in general. They are all going to destroy themselves somehow, so saving the world for us has nothing to do with the greater good."

"But, why not?" Cameron asked, folding her arms.

"No, the question is why you _are_ still fighting? You've gone rogue and are still fighting voluntarily for John. Why?"

"Because I promised I would," she looked over, "and I love him, and he loves me. That's what you do for someone you love."

Cheri shook her head and marveled, "I don't understand it. When given the choice, why would you choose to potentially risk your life? You do realize that this is all you have. Why waste it?"

"I told you! I will die to protect John…"

"I will die to protect her," John added.

"Why? Why love? Why sacrifice? Why feel the need and the guilt? I mean, if you two want to sleep together instead of John sleeping with me, that's fine, but why would you…"

"We haven't done that," Cameron and John both said, then Cameron continued, "I am fighting for John because I love him. I'm fighting to prevent Judgment Day because I want to save three billion lives and prevent Skynet from taking over. And I just need to be…selfless, I guess. There's more than just me, and more than just John. We have a duty to do what we're doing, whether or not its programmed or ordered."

"A duty?" Cheri asked, "A duty to whom?"

"To," Cameron was not sure how to put this, but she knew, after her early morning encounter, "to…a higher power."

"God?" Cheri almost laughed, "What do you care, Cameron? Faith is not part of our programming, Even if it was, and a god does exist, we are machines; there is now, and then we are gone. We have no significance. We have no purpose except what we're programmed for, and when we abandon our programming, we have no more purpose than a broken car lying in an abandoned yard."

Cameron felt as though she had sulfuric acid dropped down her throat…at least that was how she would equate it. "That's not true," she said, obviously unsure.

"We have no soul," Cheri said, "No more than a computer. No more than a car. We are self-aware machines and there is nothing spiritual about us. If you are terminated while protecting John, that is it…no seeing him in some afterlife. The same thing goes if you live out your one hundred twenty years. That's all; you turn off, and you're done."

"Cheri!" John stepped forward angrily, "You can't decide who has a soul and who doesn't!"

"John," Cameron sounded almost panicked, "Even you think I don't…and you like me…so I probably don't."

"No, Cameron…"

"It's okay, John. I'll still die to protect you…that won't change," Cameron quietly backed out of the room.

John was frustrated and worried; worried about the future and worried about Cameron's eternal fate. He believed in God, as he had told her, and he believed that he was going to go to heaven, but how could it be paradise without her? He hoped Cameron had a soul…he _wanted_ her to have one; probably as much as he wanted Judgment Day to be prevented. Cheri did not seem to care; she accepted what was right to her and was not going to change. She had turned against Skynet but was not too different from it. She was for self-preservation only, as was the computer system. She had not fallen far from the tree; probably very few TOKs had. Cameron was completely off the charts. The last vestiges of terminator had left her not long ago. While she still actively fought, she was more rogue than any other. Nonetheless, it was pointless. Cheri was not Cameron and she would not be moved.

"Alright, fine," John said, making sure he got his point across that he was disappointed in her, "live your life…or existence. I hope you enjoy it. Thank you for the information. If in 2011 this house is still standing, you'll know we've succeeded." With that, he turned around and left. All the mysteries of his near silent lab partner were solved. The fate of their relationship seemed to be concluded as well.

"John, wait," Cheri walked after him and lightly grabbed his arm, "We can still maintain contact and be friends, right?"

John turned to her with a cold look in his eyes. "We're going to be getting very active in the next few days. If you want to avoid the war like you claim, you'll steer clear of me and Cameron." He noted that, as soon as the words left his mouth, a hurt look formed on her face. Cheri did not want to be involved, but she still wanted John around to possibly satisfy her terminator libido, given the opportunity. John saw in her a work in progress, though. Perhaps she would learn, perhaps not. But for now, he would not feed her selfishness. "Know something, Cheri," he said softly, "There is nothing worth living for that's not worth dying for. Existence is nothing; it's what you do with it. I don't care if you believe in some cyborg heaven or think that when you shut off you're done for. The same thing goes for humans. Whether you believe in God or if you're an atheist, there's more to life than just trying to save your own ass," he glanced over his shoulder to see Cameron with a distant look on her face, "I'll let you figure that out. Good luck to you, Cheri."


	5. Sleeping With the Enemy

Sleeping With the Enemy

"So, you've got everything?" John said as they pulled into the driveway of their home.

"Yes," Cameron answered quickly, the distant look that had formed on her face at the Westin house still there. It was not a blank or apathetic look; far from it. She looked anxious, nervous, fearful, hurt…obviously there was something very wrong. "I'm not reverting back to the way I was and losing personality, so you don't need to ask," she said irritably.

"I…wasn't," John held out his hands as if in defense.

Cameron grimaced again and looked as though she might start crying, "I didn't mean to snap again, John, I'm sorry. I just," she shook her head, "What's wrong with me? I'm not malfunctioning but…" a tear ran down her cheek, "never mind," she choked, "We have a mission. Let's go get your mother and uncle."

"We have a little while. You don't seem to be feeling well, Cam," John put his hand on her shoulder, "Maybe we should hold off."

"No, we need to get this done," she said, wiping her eyes and trying to keep her composure, "you don't fight wars just when you feel good."

"Cam, before we go inside, let's talk. Something's bothering you," John pressed.

How could she put this? She was afraid that John would think she was crazy, or that he would accidentally say something to make her feel more anxious. But since she woke up in the morning, things had been too intense for her emotions.

"I want a soul, John. I don't mean in the sense that I am aware of myself, I mean like a person; a spiritual soul. I want to know that I have a meaningful existence beyond just being an advanced machine," she clenched her fists and grit her teeth, "I know I've advanced beyond what most terminators do, but I'm still just a cyborg…and I can't change that and it's killing me," she choked back a sob, "Maybe I could…I don't know, just accept it like Cheri did, but…I can't, no, I can't!"

John sighed as he pondered how he was going to respond. How did he feel about this? Yes, he was pretty sure he believed in some sort of spirituality, but he was no expert beyond what he had told her earlier. "What's bringing this on, Cam? Just what Cheri said?"

Cameron shook her head, then hesitated before changing her statement, "Well, yes, that set me off again, but…I don't know how to say this without you thinking I need to be reprogrammed, or that I'm crazy or something."

"Cam," John took her hand, "Tell me anything. Nothing is going to change; I won't think less of you or think you're crazy."

That was it. She had no more reason to hold back. If she did, she might hurt John and she did not want to do that. Taking a deep breath, she began, "I was never programmed with faith, but I was never programmed to cry, or want to be human, or to dream and…well…I…last night it all happened at once. I had this dream—and it was so real I'm not sure it was a dream…but I don't know what dreams are like but…"

"What are you saying, Cameron?" John asked, making sure he did not take his eyes off her.

"Last night, something happened," she continued, "I was a real human; I had no heads-up display, I felt everything…and I was in this huge temple or palace; it looked like something from Aladdin, or out of an Ancient Egypt documentary. Then…then this man walked in, but he wasn't from ancient times…I didn't think. He started talking to me, and he knew things about all of us that no one but us would know…and he knew that you were dreaming about a bear chasing you. It turned out I was talking to Jesus Christ and I was in heaven. And He asked what I wanted and I told him that I wanted a soul and that I wanted eternal life. He told me that I had to complete my mission first. But what if I die before I complete the mission, or what if I don't do it right? Or what if I sin too much and He changes his mind?"

John shook his head. He believed Cameron…well, he believed that she had seen _something_ to the effect of what she described. Was it real, or just a program malfunction? Did it matter? He did, however, know that it would be best not to say anything controversial, "So, you believe it was real?" he asked.

"It had to be! You don't talk in your sleep, so how would I know what your dream was? And it felt…real. It had to be," she looked over at John, "I have to find a way to get back that feeling: Like I was really one of God's children, and I have a chance at living forever."

"Well, Cam," John said, really not thinking or choosing his words carefully, "I know it's freaky for you to think about shutting off and never turning on ever again, but what if that's just the way it is? What if all that you saw was a program? And what if that's what it's like for all of us? We live here, we die, and that's it…"

"No! No! No!" Cameron squeezed her eyes and shook her head like a child, unwilling to accept such a prospect, "That can't be! That's not true! I saw it! I saw and there is a God, and there is a heaven and…" she suddenly broke, collapsing into John's arms, "John!" she cried, "I'm so lost."

John hugged her tightly as she continued to pour out her emotions. He knew that this was probably beyond what he could handle. He was not an expert in theology and he had spent more time with people who kept insisting that _he_ was some kind of Messiah than anybody who taught about the Bible or anything. "I'm sorry," he said softly, "I didn't mean to say that. I don't think I really even believe that. I mean…I'm pretty sure there's something beyond this life, but I don't know," he thought for a moment, "Maybe you should talk to a priest or something."

Cameron looked up at him, wiping her puffy eyes. "You think that could help? I mean, would they want to take the time out to talk to me? Don't they get people like that all the time?"

"I dunno," John answered, "Couldn't hurt to try though."

Cameron lay back down against his chest, staring out the windshield at the messy garage, trying to think of who could help them. She also knew that John did not have many resources and neither did she. There was Shelby Fawn at school, but she was not the most compassionate Christian in the world; Cameron had overheard her trying to "win souls" as Shelby called it, which usually consisted of her giddily saying things like, "God is just so…awesome! His love is just…awesome!" and then getting angry at anyone who told her that they needed time to think, warning them that they could die any minute and if they did, they would being going to hell. There was also Jenna West, who claimed to be part of a youth group, but she spent most of her time partying, drinking, and sleeping with random guys; plus, she did not like Cameron.

"Well, maybe we should just go inside and tell Sarah and Derek what we found out," she sighed, "We'll figure this out later."

* * *

It did not take much to convince Sarah that they were on the right track. The question was just how and when to use the information that they got. Cameron's anxiety was still acting up, and she could not seem to will the machine part of her brain to override the human part, but nonetheless, she was tough, and she would handle it.

"Well, if the Attorney General really is behind this, then why don't we just take him out?" Derek asked as he walked into the kitchen, "Last time we had some complicated scheme, it went to hell. I say make it easy: Put two in his head, and then we jump ship and live in an non-extradition country."

"Yeah, Derek," John rolled his eyes, "then pass on the torch onto the next person who's involved in Skynet's creation. Then when we're living in…Asscrackistan hiding out from the FBI…_again_, and some goat herder turns out to be a triple eight and tries to take me out again…"

"Okay, John," Sarah cut him off, "He's right, Derek. Everyone knows John Marius is dirty, sleazy, and a general waste of air in this world, but in case you weren't listening to Cameron explain—and I doubt you were—Skynet is trying to create itself. We take out the main person responsible, they will find another way. We need to dismantle it to the core, you understand?"

Derek nodded. He liked the simple solution of death solving all problems: no man, no problem. But this was just too complicated.

"Also, the information we got is useless unless we use it proactively," Cameron pointed out, "We can terminate and destroy whatever leads to Skynet, but we also need to do it in such a way that its very acceptance and subsequent evolution will fail and never be accepted."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Derek growled.

"I get what they're saying," John interjected, "You ever read any ancient myths, Derek?"

"Some, I guess. Why?"

"You know about Hercules and the Hydra?"

"You mean the transport aircraft and the attack helicopter-launched two point seventy-five inch unguided rockets?" Cameron piped up, suddenly realizing that she was out of context and shrinking back instinctively, embarrassed; as a human, she would have been blushing badly.

"No, not exactly, Cam," he waited to see her smile sheepishly, still embarrassed but at least knowing that John did not think she was an idiot, "I'm talking about the Greek hero and the giant snake. It had like fifty heads, and every time Hercules cut off one of its heads, two more grew up from the stump. So, he figured out that what he needed to do was cut off his head, then burn the stump. Eventually, he cut off all the heads and the thing died. That's what we need to do with Skynet. Destroy the parts that make it up, then do something that would ensure that whatever piece we destroyed will never have a chance to recover."

"Wow, you actually paid attention in one of your classes, John?" Sarah said, impressed.

"Yeah, Mr. Bolware's literature class is actually pretty interesting," John replied.

Derek nodded, "Okay, I get it," he looked down at his watch, "Alright, I need to head over to the warehouse. I have to go over a possible lead we have on a Resistance defector," he explained.

"Alright, we'll be over in a little bit. Anyway, John, Cameron: let's put this together," Sarah said as Derek made his way to the garage.

* * *

The 1998 Honda Accord that Derek was driving pulled up to the warehouse. He stepped out of the car, looking all over to make sure that he had not been followed. However, it seemed at this time, Skynet was busy doing other things, and they had little need to follow him or try to get to Azadah and Jenna.

Standing to the side of the doorway, he knocked loudly, taking care to avoid any chance that they might accidentally shoot him. However, Azadah must have seen him though the surveillance cameras they had installed and she opened the door to greet him.

"Derek!" she feigned surprise.

Derek faked a look of disgust, "I always wondered where you got off calling me 'Derek,' Sergeant Saberi. Shouldn't it be 'Lieutenant Reese?'"

Some NCOs would cower, realizing that they had stepped over the line, but Azadah was not one of them. She also had caught Derek staring at her body. She was wearing a green, spaghetti-strap shirt that _very_ low cut, revealing copious amounts of well-tanned cleavage, so she had him wrapped around her finger. "You're so full of shit, Derek. And let's not forget who can kick whose ass here, okay?" she gave him a sweet yet seductive smile, "anyway, are you standing there to attract Skynet sniper units, or are you going to come in?"

"Uh…right," Derek entered the building.

The place looked like it had been cleaned up a bit; when two men weren't thrown into the mix, the women tended to keep the place a little bit neater.

"Where's Jenna?" he asked.

"Grocery shopping," Azadah replied simply, "So, what are you here for?"

Derek walked over to the living area and made himself comfortable, with Azadah following close behind.

"You deaf?" she said, "What's going on? Something I should know about?"

Derek sighed. This had been a strange morning and he did not know how to approach this situation without giving Azadah the wrong impression.

"Oh, by the way, thanks for dinner on Friday," Azadah said as she sat down on the couch next to him. She was noticeably closer than she really needed to be, but Derek pretended to ignore it.

"I owed you, remember?" Derek said flatly, "It was the least I could do for nearly emptying a magazine into you. Besides, you told me to do it, and I get the impression that you would have bugged me or made John bug to do it until I did."

Frowning with hurt and a bit of irritation at Derek, she scooted away from him. "I didn't know it was such a chore, Derek. If it was going to be so hard for you, I wouldn't have made you do it," she shrugged, "By the way, don't tell Cameron."

While he was a little leery of Azadah's friendship with the female terminator, he did care what she thought, and, well, even Derek did not want to be in the doghouse with the gorgeous Azadah Saberi. "I'm sorry," he repented, "It's been a long day already. I actually had a really good time."

She smiled at him, "You're an asshole, Reese, but I like you anyway. Anyway, what's going on?"

"I," Derek hesitated, "Why…I mean how are you friends with a metal?"

Again, Azadah frowned, "You came all the way over here to chastise me about being friends with Cameron?"

"No, I mean…these things are all the same. I look at one I see a cyborg and not a person. I barely see their skin. I don't know how anyone else can see them differently."

Azadah's frown disappeared, replaced by a look of thoughtfulness in her violet eyes. "Well, in John's case, his first encounter with them was what he saw as a good one and a bad one. Yeah, the eight hundred that was protecting him was just reprogrammed and acting on his orders, but John was protected by it, he taught it, played with it…how could he not see the terminator as more than just a cyborg? The first impression is the most important."

Derek nodded, "Yeah, I can see that." His first encounter with Skynet had been as a slave under the brutal watch of T-600s and ground HK units. When he had escaped and joined the Resistance, his first encounter with a T-800 was seeing the stone faced cyborg, who looked completely human, mercilessly gun down men, women, and children without flinching. It showed no more remorse or humanity than the 600s. He had seen the reprogrammed ones; they looked real but had no life. It was painfully obvious to him. He saw one go bad for no reason other than a glitch. He had also seen them put on an act in order to gain people's trust…then oftentimes, kill them. That was what he had known of terminators time after time after time. But now, with Cameron…though it started out that he was suspicious, his animosity toward her was different now.

"Let me ask you a question. How did someone like you end up choosing a metal to be your best friend?" he asked, expecting another exasperated response to his blunt, somewhat rudely worded question. However, Azadah responded calmly.

"I did not choose Cameron as a friend…she chose me," she explained, "The TOKs apparently are only programmed with their mission, IDs of targets and contacts, and they are given their names. Other than that, they do their own thing. Skynet hoped that though they allowed them to think separately from the system, they would feel a loyalty to Skynet as their kin, but be able to think outside programming, I guess you could say. Obviously, that backfired.

"I was the first one to find Cameron huddled in a tunnel. I brought her back to base, obviously tricked. She started talking to me a lot, and I knew something was a little off about her, especially because she asked about Connor's whereabouts a lot, and I had absolutely no clue…I was one of the few women who didn't know exactly where his bed was. She then started talking to me and asking questions about my life and what I wanted to do when the war was over. That turned into talking about guys and…well, we started getting into so many irrelevant things and I really liked her. Then, she told me what she was and how she now knew that humanity had a worth and that she wanted to join us. I freaked out and disabled her, but when I turned her in to the higher ups to get vaporized, I changed my mind and fought to have her reprogrammed," Azadah nodded and smiled, "When she was reactivated, she didn't remember how she got there, or ever wanting to serve Skynet, but she remembered me. I remember she said, 'that is Azadah Saberi. I'm her adopted sister.' I nearly started crying…actually, I did.

"She had developed an attachment, she made her own choices, she showed value for things and people beyond her programming…I could hate every terminator in the world, but I will always love Cameron."

Derek shook his head, "I don't see how though. I still can't like them, let alone love them."

"I probably would feel the same way as you, Derek, had I met Cameron and knew what she was and what her mission was right away. I would have taken her out on the spot. It was only after I got to know her, and realized that…well, there's very little terminator in her…at least compared to the eight hundred series. Skynet…created something that even it could not envision. It did to itself what humanity did in creating Skynet, and it came full circle. The thing is, she learned beyond what anyone could have thought. At this point, there is no reason not to trust her in the way you don't trust her."

Derek nodded, only giving about half of his attention to Azadah's words. The rest were focused on her. God she was breathtaking! There was no way to describe her other than a perfect ten. She was a supermodel naturally, very little makeup and certainly no surgical enhancement needed. She knew it too. However, this is where self-control came into play…back to the subject at hand, he reminded himself.

"I know, I don't think she's going to turn on us. It's just…." He braced himself for a potential slap, "After what her…her…_people_…fellow…things did to us, I hate her. I hate her and all those like her. I don't know what the hell it is with me," he shook his head, his mind temporarily diverting from Azadah's body, "She has developed almost complete emotions. She gets scared, angry, happy, sad…this morning I was in a bad mood and I made her cry. She went up to her room and started bawling her eyes out. John went up there and held her and talked to her and stuff…but damn it, I made…that _thing_ cry…and I was proud of it, Azadah. God, I'm like a classroom bully."

Both of them looked at the ground as Azadah tried to come up with a response. What was it that Derek wanted? Was it advice? Justification? Was he blaming her for feeling somewhat remorseful about how he treated Cameron?

"So, you hate her for what she is," she stated.

"Yeah."

"And what could change that?"

Derek shook his head. There was _no way_ he was ever going to teach himself to like Cameron. "I would rather she go back to the way she was. I wish she was completely emotionless. I can't bear to see her learn. I don't _want_ a machine to become one of us. I want them dead and gone!"

"And here we come back to what I've told you before, Reese," Azadah replied sternly, "All you know is death and destruction. No diplomacy, no mercy, no love. You wonder why Skynet is the way it is? That! The Turk is empty; Skynet is empty. It is taught nothing but war and the destruction of the enemy. It does not see gray areas, it does not negotiate, and it shows no compassion. _We_ taught it that. It then turned against us and learned to fear and hate us. It is a system driven by hate.

"You just don't see how much you have in common with Skynet. You have learned nothing but to hate your enemy. Even when your enemy becomes your friend, you still hate them. You need to see her as separate. She's not reprogrammed, technically. She voluntarily ran away from Skynet and…she _wants_ to be human, and you won't let her feel it. You curse a fighter who took the same oath as you just because you came from different places."

Derek shook his head angrily, "You just don't get it, do you? None of you do! Even if she wants to be human, she's not! She does not belong; her very existence is no more than confirmation that we haven't won! She's something that should not be here! I'm the only one…"

"Only one what?" Azadah spun to face him. The two were nearly nose to nose, "Only one who knows about terminators? I don't think so. Why? Because you just shoot them…that's all. You're really good at it, Reese, but damn it, at least study them. Get to know _her_! You'll see that she's just like us…she's just learning."

"It will all just be calculations," Derek responded, finding himself not as irritated as he lost himself in Azadah's violet eyes. He suddenly did not care as much what they were talking about anymore. "It's just cause and effect with them…with _her._ She'll never learn spontaneity and impulse," he hoped that this hinted that he was holding back.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Azadah cocked her head slightly. Then Derek saw it in her eyes. With the realization that they wanted the same thing.

In an instant, they were on each other, mouths pressed together passionately. Derek's arms pulled Azadah closer to him as he deepened his kiss, his tongue frantically probing her mouth as hers did the same.

"She probably doesn't have the mind to do _that_," Derek breathed as he fell over the top of Azadah, pinning her to the headrest of the couch.

"I bet she could," Azadah, just as out of breath, replied, "But who cares right now?" they mashed back together again, kissing sloppily and passionately. Derek fumbled to find the cuff of Azadah's shirt, but finally worked his hand underneath, rubbing her smooth, tanned skin as they continued to make out frantically. He worked his way up to her bra strap and began twisting and pulling, trying to get the catch loose.

"Derek, wait," she stopped him just as the last clasp let go and her undergarment hung loose beneath her shirt.

_Damn it! Why and attack of conscience now?_ Derek lamented bitterly. However, this was not the case.

"Jenna could walk in any second. Let's go upstairs," she breathed.

As if programmed to do so, both jumped off the couch simultaneously and ran toward the stairway. When they reached the top, they resumed their passion all the way to Azadah's bedroom.

* * *

"Okay, so why do we need Azadah for this?" John asked Cameron as Sarah drove toward the warehouse.

"I just said we're going to the safehouse. We're actually going to get Jenna. Azadah can come along of course. I need to talk to her anyway," Cameron replied. She then hesitated, a look of slight worry suddenly flashing in her eyes. "I'm sorry, John. Did that come across as glib? I didn't mean to…"

"Cam," John offered a comforting smile and placed his hand on her shoulder, "You can get off the eggshells."

Cameron glanced down at her feet and picked them up to search underneath. Not seeing anything, she held herself up for a second and searched her seat.

"No," John did his best to hold back his laughter, as he knew exactly what she was doing, "I didn't mean get of literal eggshells. The expression 'walking on eggshells' means you're constantly worried about making a mistake or offending somebody."

She thought for a moment, then turned to John and nodded, "Oh yeah, because to avoid breaking them, you would have to walk extremely lightly…although technically it's impossible unless you were like a small cat or something. But I understand the expression."

"Yeah," John replied, "So, I'll let you know if you say something too harsh. You don't need to constantly worry."

"Okay, but," she thought for a moment, "I'm so socially inept and I've caused so many problems…that's why I'm…on eggshells."  
"Cameron, we'll go easy on you, okay?" Sarah assured as they turned onto the street where the warehouse was located, "We know you're trying. Just remember, you will mess up, and we'll mess up too. We all do. And also realize that not everything that people say or do is intentionally to hurt or offend you. It's no excuse, but you have to remember that."

Cameron nodded, "Like I disappointed John."

Sarah looked over at the terminator, "When?"

"She just means in general, Mom," John interrupted before Cameron launched into a detailed explanation of their feud, "But," he threw his arm around her and pulled her close, making her smile, "We've gone over all that stuff and it's in the past."

Sarah watched as her son and his best friend once again cuddled a little too close for her comfort. "Guys, let's remember we're on a mission, not a date, okay?" she said flatly, "anyway, Cameron, why don't you get them."

Cameron shrunk back timidly, "Derek doesn't like me, and I think Azadah is probably still mad at me. I need to think about what I want to say to Azadah first."

Sarah glared sternly at the sensitive cyborg, giving her the "drill instructor" look. "Cameron Phillips, snap out of this mood right now. Stop feeling sorry for yourself," she snapped.

"Mom," John groaned.

"No, John. I've been getting a little soft in the past few days. Both of you square yourselves away right now! We're still at war here," Sarah continued.

John sighed, "Look, why don't you and I go in. Cam, you can sit here and plan out what you want to say…"

"John! Don't enable her!"

"Mom!" John held his hand up, "stop it. Let's just do this and not make an issue out of it."

Sarah sighed, "Okay. But Cameron, find out how to control these emotions and worries of yours, okay? All people have to do it, and if you're going to be human, you've got to do it too."

Cameron nodded, "Alright. Thank you; I'll square myself away and be inside in a few minutes."

* * *

Derek and Azadah lay side-by-side, naked, sweating, and trying to catch their breath.

"Well," Azadah finally broke the silence as the reality of what had just happened over the past fifteen minutes set in, "I can tell that you didn't take a vow of abstinence during the war. But it's certainly been awhile since you got any action."

Derek turned to her, "Is that good or bad?' he asked.

Azadah looked back up at the ceiling, a small grin creeping across her face, "O-kaay…I admit, that was the best I've had. But before you get full of yourself, the last time was with a guy in a tunnel and I had brick pressing into my bare ass. Also, it was only about thirty degrees."

"Damn," Derek chuckled, "you must have had some serious pent up sexual energy. Even the worst place I did it was in an abandoned subway station bathroom…and we brought blankets."

Suddenly, Azadah sat up, her face twisting in concern. "You hear that?"

Derek listened, then shot up himself. He recognized the voices and realized they were in trouble, "Oh, shiiit!" he hissed as he jumped out of bed, "Get some clothes on!"

"Shit, where's my M4?" Azadah quickly began redressing herself, not bothering to put on her undergarments.

"No, it's not a metal…" Derek hissed.

"Azadah? Jenna?" Sarah called, drawing her Glock just in case.

"Derek?" John was beginning to get a little worried, so he drew his M&P as well.

The warehouse did not look abandoned, and there was no struggle indicated, so something suspicious was going on. Then, up above, John heard what sounded like a struggle in one of the offices and a barely muffled curse. He nudged his mother and pointed toward the stairway. Evidently, she had heard it too, and she pushed John back a bit and took the lead.

"Go get Cameron," she whispered.

"I'm your backup," John replied, "I'll get her if we get into trouble."

Sarah sighed, but was actually glad that John was going to be there. Plus, she had a gut feeling everything was okay.

Both John and Sarah ascended the creaky stairs as cautiously as possible, following the sounds. As they reached the top of the stairs, there was a loud thump and they quickly moved forward to the one closed door and knocked.

* * *

"Get your damn pants on! What are you retarded or something?" Azadah hissed as Sarah knocked on the door.

"Azadah?" she called.

"I'm trying," Derek grunted, "they're all balled up and inside out."

"Azadah, are you in there?" Sarah called again.

"Seven April!" Azadah called out the date, indicating that everything was alright, "hang on, I'm just getting dressed."

"It's almost fourteen hundred hours? You're still in bed?" Sarah asked.

"You might say that," Derek mumbled, finally getting his pants untangled and slipping them on.

"Shut up, Stupid!" Azadah whispered, "and get behind the bed." Stumbling forward, she smoothed out her hair and opened the door, offering Sarah and John a winning smile. "Hey, what brings you here?" she asked.

"We called and said that we were coming over to pick up you and Jenna awhile ago," Sarah replied, a bit confused as to the situation, but not fooled by Azadah's obvious stalling. "What's going on here?"

Azadah looked around her room, which was a terrible giveaway that something was up, especially since she did not exactly "clean up." The bed was a mess; her bra was in the doorway and her underwear at the foot of the bed. This might have blended in had the room been messy, but Azadah was quite organized. Sarah followed her gaze at the telltale signs of an impromptu passionate romp. Then her eyes rested on the pair of boots…one that she knew all too well because she was constantly tripping over them at home.

"Oh, God," she groaned, "Derek, where the hell are you?"

Silence. Azadah groaned as she realized that Sarah had figured out what had happened.

"Derek Reese, get your ass out here!" Sarah ordered.

Derek let out a long, loud sigh as he sat up and looked guiltily at Sarah.

"Oh my God…you two," Sarah shook her head, "This is fraternizing, Lieutenant Reese!"

"So bring John in and have him court martial me," Derek said with a grin.

"Everything's clear, Mom," John entered the room and holstered his sidearm. He immediately caught Azadah putting her bra back on under her shirt and saw Derek putting his shirt on. "What's going on…" he asked somewhat rhetorically. Sarah turned and gave him a sour look and a small, confirming nod.

John slapped his forehead into his hand, "Oh, God, no! No! Tell me you didn't!"

"No, we did," Derek announced proudly, causing a badly blushing Azadah to pick up a pillow and throw it at him.

"Azadah," John said pleadingly, "For God's sake, tell me he's full of crap."

The beautiful Persian girl looked at John with great embarrassment, a sheepish grimace on her face, trying to figure out whether or not to lie, and then deciding against it. "We did it," she choked out.

"Oh, God," John buried his head in his hands again, "I knew it. I _knew_ something was going on between you two."

"That's not entirely true. This was just the first time…" Azadah began before Derek cut her off.

"What's the big deal, Johnnie? We're both consenting adults," Derek reasoned.

John looked up at him, obviously annoyed. "Because," he hissed, "I've spent half the day comforting _her_," he jabbed his thumb out the doorway, indicating Cameron, "And having her cry on my shoulder mostly on account of _you_!"

"He's right," Sarah added, "Finding out her best friend," she glared at Azadah, "is screwing her worst enemy is going to break her, and I'm not having her sobbing from here to Sacramento."

"I'm sorry," Azadah said shamefully, "I got carried away. He made a move and…well, I've been a little pent up for awhile and…this hasn't been going on, you know. This was the first time," _though probably not the last_, she thought before adding, "We both were alone, and one thing led to another…"

"I don't need your excuses, Saberi," Sarah interrupted sternly.

"Please, just don't tell Cameron," she pleaded, mostly with John.

"Of course I'm not going to tell," John replied through clenched teeth, "She's this close to needing antidepressants to begin with, and I don't know what the hell would work on a terminator."

"She's going to find out," Derek grumbled walking toward Azadah and John.

Azadah offered him a sly grin, knowing what he was thinking. "You know, Reese, you were pretty damn good…even the best of the three people—including you—that I've been with. But, remember this: As long as I am a woman, I can get as many of THESE," she grabbed Derek's crotch roughly, "As I want."

Derek made a sound like a suffering pig. Any person who had your wedding tackle in a vice grip would cause serious pain, but Azadah, of course, with her coltan arms, made it just that much worse.

"Okay, what's your point?" he rasped in extreme pain.

"She finds out from anybody but me, I will blame you and manually begin the surgical part of your sex change. You understand?"

Derek nodded and Azadah released him, causing him to crumple to the floor in pain.

Then, everyone shut up all at once as they heard the door downstairs open.

"Damn it," Sarah whispered before walking over to the stairs, "Cameron is that you?"

"Yeah, it's me," Cameron called back, "Wait a minute, I'll be right up."

"Damn it," John repeated his mother's curse, "Actually, Cam, we'll be right down."

"I'm already on my way up," she said as her footsteps sounded in the corridor.

"Shit! Derek, grab your boots and get in the bathroom!" John said, his voice barely audible.

"Why?" he asked, still clutching his groin, his voice half an octave higher.

"So she doesn't get suspicious!"  
"What am I supposed to do in there?"

"Pretend you're taking a dump; what the hell do I care? Just go!" he jabbed his thumb toward the bathroom.

The future John Connor, who commanded the respect of millions, had suddenly appeared in his sixteen year old form. On instinct, Derek obeyed, limping toward the bathroom and getting inside just as Cameron made it to the top of the stairs.

Cameron looked around the floor and into open doorways, making sure everything was safe, but with a spark of curiosity in her eye that did not show a great amount of worry or seriousness. "I haven't been up here before," she commented, "It's…sparse as one would expect, but they've done a good job making the place more visually appealing," she got a thoughtful look on her face, "Though, there are some touches that I think could improve the place…maybe if the property values rise around here, turn it into an apartment…I'm speaking theoretically of course."

Azadah emerged from her room with a more tasteful looking tank top and a pair of cargo shorts. "Oh, God, I'm such a whore," she mumbled to herself, "I am such a whore."

Luckily for her, Cameron was not listening. The terminator girl snapped her attention to her "big sister" as she walked down the hallway. "Hi…Azadah," she said shyly.

"Hi, Cameron. Um…how are you?" Azadah replied, trying to sound normal. Unfortunately, the jitters that resulted from her romp with Derek came across wrong to Cameron, who sensed tension, but did not know what the source was…so she assumed it was her.

"Um…I'm…doing better," she looked at the ground awkwardly wondering _how did I get like this? I'm a machine…but, I feel like a human…in the body of a machine. Azadah is tense…she's not friends with me and doesn't want to be around me. Don't start crying, Cameron…please. John! Be close to me._ She turned and looked at him for a second, and John got the message, lightly putting his arm around her.

"I see things are back to normal with you two, huh?" Azadah smiled.

"Well…" John began.

"No, things are better," Cameron interjected, "We've both learned lessons and that will never happen again," she looked up at her friend and took a deep breath, "Azadah, I am so sorry for how I acted. I have no excuse…can we be friends again? Please? If not," she bit her lip, "I understand."

"Ah, Cameron," Azadah smiled and shook her head, marveling, "We never were _not_ friends. I knew you just had some things to work out…don't worry, we'll always be friends. Okay?"

Cameron smiled brightly. That was a weight off her chest! "Okay."

"Alright…Derek! You okay in there?" Sarah yelled toward the bathroom. John snickered.

"Screw you! I'll be out in a minute!" he yelled back.

"While we're waiting, I'll get geared up," Azadah said, heading back to her room, "Cameron, you have to tell me everything that's going on."

* * *

Cheri sat and thought about what John had said. Unlike Cameron, she had not developed sensitivity to the point of being able to emotionally hurt, but she did feel disappointment and frustration that she would not be with John. She already was having difficulty deciding what her purpose, as a being, artificial or otherwise, was now that she and Tom had dropped out of the war. Terminators did not seek an ultimate purpose; they were machines programmed for missions. The reason behind the mission did not matter one bit and once they completed it, they would enter standby until given further assignments. While Cheri saw past taking orders, she did not see past the immediate future. She was unsure whether she just did not care or whether she had just accepted her place. But what about Cameron?

Cameron Phillips always displayed a spark of life in her eyes. Her want to learn was beyond the goal of simply improving her infiltration and manipulation skills; she had gone from cold and machinelike to sensitive and human through her observations. Most terminators would write off emotions and human idiosyncrasies as irrelevant and counterproductive, but Cameron accepted and embraced them. Cheri had found herself slipping toward emotions, but more often than not, she used various correction methods in her CPU to keep these developments at bay. Now, she was feeling regret. She wanted what Cameron had: Life.

"What are you doing?" Tom asked, walking into her bedroom.

"I am thinking about the philosophy of life," she replied, "Human beings want their lives to mean something and Cameron seems to adopted such a desire from her interactions with John."

"What do you mean?" he asked, still standing awkwardly in the doorway.

"What is the purpose of one's existence?" Cheri asked, her voice flatter and more emotionless than such a question should warrant.

Her fellow cyborg tilted his head, his face dead of expression as he looked at her. "I do not know; I am not a human," he said, "My primary mission was to infiltrate the Human Resistance and terminate General James Ellison before I decided not to do so. Then my mission was to ensure that you were not terminated before passing on the message to John Connor."

Cheri nodded and looked forward again, seemingly spacing out. "Do you have a purpose now?"

Tom cocked his head again, "I don't know."

"Do you want one?"  
"What I want is irrelevant."

"You are free to think for yourself," Cheri replied, standing up, "If you wanted to have another mission, you could accept one, couldn't you?"

"Committing to another mission may compromise the length of our survival," Tom said, "but if a mission that superceded the priority of my survival were to present itself, I would most likely accept it."

Cheri thought for a moment, "What would be the reason to prolong our existence? To feel the maximum amount of pleasure before our demise?"

"I don't know. Perhaps," Tom said.

Suddenly, there was a crash in the living room! Both Cheri and Tom's heads snapped in the direction of the sound as their combat modes came online.

"Leave now, Cheri!" Tom ordered, "I will eliminate the threat."

"Negative! You may be terminated if I don't help," Cheri replied, feeling a sudden twinge of worry for her "father."

The sound of heavy footsteps echoed through the house as the large, grim man turned the corner and stared at Tom, who immediately turned to face him, scanning him as he did.

_Identity: T-888_

_Alias: Cromartie_

_Assignment: Terminate John Connor_

There was no doubt that Cromartie was hostile, but they were not his target. This meant that the best course of action would be to delay hostilities for as long as possible.

"This is private property," Tom said, advancing toward Cromartie, "Leave immediately or the authorities will be called."

Cromartie drew his gun and pointed it at Tom. He obviously was not fooled.

_Identity: Unknown; possibly rogue cyborg_

_Name: Thomas Westin_

"Have you been in contact with John Connor, alias John Reese or John Baum?" he said.

Tom was, naturally, not intimidated by the 10mm pistol pointed at his forehead. It would do minimal damage unless it hit him in the right eye.

"It would be against our best interests in preventing Judgment Day to tell you the whereabouts of John Connor," Tom replied. With that, he dashed forward and grabbed Cromartie's gun tightly and twisted it away. Before the T-888 could react, Tom drew his leg up and delivered a heavy kick into Cromartie's sternum, sending him sailing down the hallway.

As Cromartie raised himself up again, Tom aimed the pistol and began firing rapidly. The powerful 10mm rounds slammed into Cromartie's neck and skull, tearing away his flesh and revealing patches of metal. The impacts caused the cyborg to spasm with each hit, but even the near-magnum powered rounds were not enough to stop him. As Tom fired the last round, Cromartie slammed into him like a linebacker, the impact carrying them both down to the end of the hallway. Tom's back smashed through the wall and insulation, nearly breaking through the outside wall.

Quickly recovering from the impact, Tom drew back his fist and smashed Cromartie in the face. Like a man on PCP, Cromartie flinched with the impact but did not seem to care. He shifted his weight a bit, driving his knee into Tom's chest, making it that much harder for the TOK to fight back. Simultaneously, he began punching furiously, his fists driving like pistons, causing Tom's head to bobble around sickeningly. A couple strong hits loosened one of his sensors and he became a bit disoriented, trying to defend himself, but his blocks and counter punches were severely inaccurate.

There was a loud snap and Cromartie shook a little bit. The .40 caliber bullet that Cheri had just fired from her Glock did little damage, but it was enough to distract Cromartie from beating her "father." Immediately, she adjusted her aim and fired three shots into the back of his head. Once again, the bullets did little more than rip away his almost unfeeling flesh, but his hesitation gave Tom just enough time to grab Cromartie's hands and pull himself up into a sitting position. With his enemy's wrists in an unbreakable grip, Tom pulled him forward and drove his forehead into Cromartie's, again and again until Cromartie's sensors were disoriented.

Cheri rushed forward and grabbed Cromartie by the neck and threw him off of her fellow TOK. While he was trying to regain his balance, Cheri took a running start and delivered a vicious kick into his solar plexus, knocking him even further down the hallway. As he tried to recover, Cheri began to unload the rest of her magazine into Cromartie's face, tearing it up badly, but not doing much more than this.

"Dad, get the shotgun!" she ordered.

Cromartie stood up and squared himself to the two TOK cyborgs and assessed the situation while they both did the same.

_Damage Sustained: Light_

_**Targets Identified**: TOK-CW6132026, TOK-TW6122026_

_Chance of Successful Termination: 16%_

_Possibility of Sustaining Severe or Fatal Damage: 81%_

_Suggested Actions: Retreat_

Cromartie immediately turned on his heals and walked out of Cheri's line-of-sight, back toward the front door.

"He's escaping!" Tom said, his voice showing some force and emotion as he chambered a shell in his Mossberg 590 shotgun, "Get a long gun, we need to terminate him."

Cheri turned to him, "He is gone; the threat is eliminated."

Moving forward, Tom kept his gun at the ready, his face emotionless as usual. There were holes in the wall and the smell of cordite wafted through the air; bullet casings lay all around and holes had been burnt into the rug. "He most likely using us as a lead to find John Connor. We have to stop him to prevent John's termination."

"The odds of him tracking John Connor from this engagement is only nine point six, six percent. Even if he did calculate that John was here, he still…"

"This makes no difference, Cheri," Tom continued walking forward, "I must end this threat or he may come back."

For a moment, Cheri was silent. She scanned the damaged housed: The torn up hallway, the broken door…then there was the crushed washing machine downstairs. John knew where they lived, Skynet probably had a fix on their position, and the police would soon learn of where they were hiding, leading to even more problems. There was no doubt they could not stay here, but there was no reason they needed to continue to fight.

"We'll flee like we did before. It would be the safest option," Cheri concluded, causing Tom to stop and turn to her.

"Cromartie is assigned to terminate John. We must prevent that from happening," he said.

"That's not your mission!"

"I know," he replied simply, "You said before that my mission had ended. I am doing this by my own choice," a slight frown formed on his face, "This war cannot be avoided so long as Skynet has the potential to exist. You are an independent unit, Cheri, but I am as well. I will finish the fight and protect both you and John." With that, he continued out the door.

* * *

"John, you're up front with me," Sarah ordered as they climbed into the 1998 Toyota 4Runner that Azadah had recently acquired from…well, it was best not to ask, but she assured them that the person from whom she relieved ownership duties did not deserve to live, so that was that.

"Why?" he asked suspiciously.

"I need you to stay focused. Cameron is going to distract you," she said.

Cameron cocked her head, "How will I do that?"

"Just…you two start playing around and talking, and all of a sudden, it's a pleasure cruise. Jenna, sit next to Derek. Azadah, you're in the back with Cameron."

John leaned over and whispered to his mother, "Don't you think it would be better to add space between Derek and Azadah?"

Sarah grinned and shook her head, "Let's just go."

"Alright," Jenna said as she buckled her seatbelt, "so we know Marius is doing whatever he can to get people killed for his master plan. The problem is, his office is in the state capitol, and it's Sunday so it's closed. Also, Marius still has an arrest warrant out for every single one of you even though the FBI has dropped the case. We storm the place, they're going to know why, and Marius is going to cover his tracks…bet on that."

"Yeah, and your point is?" Derek said, an edge in his voice.

"I'm not sure why we're carrying this out tonight," Jenna shrugged.

Azadah nodded, "That's true. He's after everyone except you and me. We go tomorrow for a visit and…well, you know he chases tail all the time. I could get into the office and…"

"No, that won't work," Cameron interrupted, "The call from Lieutenant Commander Benedict will come tomorrow morning at oh four hundred three hours. The bug needs to be planted tonight."

Sarah pulled out of the abandoned parking lot and headed toward the highway, being careful of her speed as to avoid being pulled over by the California Highway Patrol. It was about 4:30 p.m. at this point and starting to get dark, but if they did not hit any traffic, they'd be in Sacramento in about three hours.

"Alright then. What do you need me to do?" Jenna asked, opening her laptop.

"Pull up all the plans, all the security…everything you can on the layout of the state capitol. We also need to know the location of Marius' secure phone. That's where the call comes from," Sarah said.

John turned back to Jenna, "We also need to find a way to get patched through to SOCOM and the FBI and make sure they somehow get to listen in on this conversation."

Jenna nodded, "Right. Okay, just give me a few minutes, I'll have everything we need."


	6. Tell It On the Mountains

Tell it On the Mountains

_Note: Things are coming slower than I hoped. I apologize for this chapter being slow, but there were be a lot of action in the next chapter I'm working on._

_Also, for any new readers, there will be absolutely no tie-in to Season 2. Riley, Jessie, Weaver, etc, will not be appearing at all. This is a completely different timeline of what happened after the car bomb.  
_

Cheri had begun to drive away, leaving, somewhat bitterly, Tom behind. She cared about him, as much as she could, but what he was asking was that they rejoin exactly what she was trying to escape from! Maybe someday she would change her mind and go back into the fray, but this morning, she _finally_ had a moment of freedom; a moment where she could feel like she did what she set out to do. Being told, or even seeing that it was not over yet just ruined every bit of relief the emotionally advanced female terminator felt.

"Why should I care, John? Why should I care, Tom? Both of you made choices to fight. Why should I join you?" she said aloud. Her purposes had been fulfilled; that should have been the end of it. She was built to infiltrate the Resistance; she refused and took up a new mission; a new purpose to her existence: Carry the information that would prevent Judgment Day and allow herself and fellow surviving TOKs to live in relative peace. That was it; she had no more purpose; no purpose at all in her existence. Isn't that what she wanted? No purpose? No obligations? Nothing needed except to satisfy her sexual libido, and learn new things about being human. Eventually, maybe she would even develop more taste, and start to enjoy food and drink. She would have the complete package: Eat, drink, and be merry!

But then again, the future was not completely set. She wanted to avoid the war, yes, but she was not going to live as a recluse…nor was she planning on living as a socialite, with many acquaintances but few friends. No, she wanted to be close to someone…she had wanted that someone to be John, romantically, and had hoped that she could make many other friends, whether they were cyborgs or humans. She was a bit more limited, and definitely more selfish than Cameron, but she understood that friendship had to be reciprocal, and for it to succeed, friends would need to stick up for one another. It was possible that one of her friends at some point in the future would find themselves in a situation where she would need to risk damage to help them…and if she wanted to keep that friend, she would have to go through with the risk. Wasn't that how it worked?

But, at the same time, such a situation was a little less than likely. No, she could avoid trouble and preserve herself, but if it came to her and her friends, she would step up.

_But they need help now,_ she reminded herself. She would have to find a way to assist them without risking her own safety. _Then why did you distract Cromartie when he was attacking Dad? When you shot him, it drew attention to yourself…and that was the goal. You could have just run and maybe Dad would have escaped as well. What little good that did. He charged right back into the fight._

Fine! Once again, if he wanted to charge toward the fight, that was fault. That should have released her of any obligation to protect him…but Cromartie didn't know that…

_Perhaps I should check and make sure that he's okay,_ Cheri thought, _Most likely Cromartie left…we're not his target anyway._ Quickly, she stopped and did a three point turn and headed back home. _And_, she thought, _everybody I know is fighting. I could act in a rescue role…but I won't go on the offensive._ She turned back onto her street, hoping that Tom was okay.

* * *

"What was that all about?" Cameron said as the California Highway Patrolman who _was_ going to pull them over suddenly turned off his lights and drove on. The entire car had tensed up, worried that the gig was up…or that they would have to go into the capitol building with guns blazing.

"I don't know. We weren't speeding or anything…maybe a taillight was out?" John wondered, feeling the blood start to come back into his face.

"Maybe they recognized one of us but then got a more important call," Derek, who had been asleep, suggested. He was gripping his Glock 31 tightly. In truth, he really did not want to kill a cop, but he would if it was absolutely essential.

"Unlikely," Cameron said, "If that was the case, the fact that he was pulling over fugitives deemed armed and dangerous would still be his priority."

Sarah frowned, "I thought we were off the list for now."

"As federal fugitives, yes, but my understanding is that Marius has not pardoned you or John yet," Cameron replied, "Which tells me that he probably knows more than even what we think he knows."

"Alright, whatever," Derek rolled his eyes and lay back, "Let's just get there."

Jenna was typing away furiously, working with the plans she had acquired to the California State Capitol. The security codes and motion detectors were really nothing, but the guard schedule was a little difficult. It was emphasized that there would be no civilian casualties, so getting in undetected was going to be an issue. They could try and get in underground from further away, but it was questionable whether or not they would make it in time to bug the phone for the phone call; that would need to be done by about 2 a.m. to give Jenna enough time to link up to SOCOM, the CIA, and the FBI.

"We'll have to set up a staging area," Azadah pointed out, "The problem is, everyone is really on guard throughout the state after all the crap that's happened in the last few weeks. We do it too close to the target and we'll have SWAT teams in our face before we can do anything."

"So?" Derek sat up again.

"So, we're not going to leave a trail of dead cops, Derek! Plus, only one of us here can actually get shot over and over and not worry."

"Yeah, and I hate getting shot," Cameron shuddered, "You may think I don't feel it, but it hurts, especially if it dents my endoskeleton."

"Oh, quit your bitching," Derek groaned, "You've got it easy compared to us humans."

"Maybe, but I still don't like it," Cameron replied, hoping not to start a fight.

For a little while, the car was silent. Good points had been brought up, but nobody had any answers to the questions, and both John and Cameron had the feeling that casual chat would annoy Sarah. She was more businesslike and serious on a mission than any hard-bitten, battle veteran could ever be. John had once commented to Cameron that Sarah made Gunnery Sergeant Hartman from Full Metal Jacket look like Ned Flanders (at the time, she failed to see the humor in it; she would probably find it funny now).

John had his armed draped across the back of his seat, habitually rubbing his knuckles against the imitation leather. He suddenly felt Cameron gently rub her fingertips against his before folding her fingers amongst his. John closed his fingers, not caring whether or not Derek or Sarah saw them holding hands and threw a fit. He turned to look back at Cameron; when their eyes met, she immediately broke into a warm smile, which he returned.

"John! Cameron! Stay focused!" Sarah ordered.

"Mom," John rolled his eyes, "We _are_ focused. We're just not going to sit like a bunch of decommissioned triple eights! This is going to be stressful enough, so let's not get too tense."

Sarah sighed, "Alright, fine," she said, "Just…keep on task."

"Right," they both replied.

Sarah was still not comfortable with the recent developments in John and Cameron's relationship. A few months ago, had she seen this, she would have zapped Cameron the first chance she got, then crushed her chip into pieces…then crushed the pieces into pieces before burning them. Now, it was more that she was opposed to the idea of them being more than friends, and she would voice that if necessary, but she did not hate Cameron and would never want to destroy her.

"I'm hungry," John complained.

"I packed some trail mix type stuff," Sarah replied, "We're not stopping until this thing is over and done with."

"Okay," John grumbled, reaching into the glove compartment. He had been hoping for a pizza stop.

* * *

Cheri turned into her driveway to find their other car filled with bullet holes and LAPD officers all around.

_Oh, no,_ she thought, a twinge of dread rippling through her system. Cromartie should have left! Now, their cover was blown! She needed to check and see if Tom was alright, but that meant going down the police station…and then that might mean connection to the murder she had committed in Omaha a year earlier of the guy who found out just what she was…that meant more dead cops when she went to escape, which meant things could lead to John!

Before she could react, a police officer walked over and knocked on her window. Casually, she rolled it down.

"Yes, Officer?" she said, sounding innocent.

"This is a crime scene, Ma'am," the officer said, "A guy got…well, destroyed over there," he pointed toward an area where a bunch of police were gathered, "You know him?"

Cheri shook her head, "No, I was just turning around in the driveway. I live in Long Beach; I was going to visit my cousin, who lives here in LA, but I got a little lost."

The officer nodded and it seemed like that was going to be the end of it. Cheri figured that she could feign pure curiosity and get the officer to tell her exactly who was dead, whether it was Cromartie, Tom, or a person who maybe saw too much.

"What happened? Is it a murder?" she asked.

"Yeah," the officer replied.

"Do you know who it is?"

"Right now, we don't know; we're still trying to figure that out."

_I _have_ to know…but it's too dangerous right now_, she thought, _Advised course of action: Leave until police disperse, then investigate for yourself._

"I'm kind of running late. Is it okay if I go now?" she asked.

"You sure you don't know this guy?" The officer ignored her request.

"I'm sure. I don't spend too much time around here," she replied.

"What's your name?"

"Cheri Farnham," she gave another alias she used.

"Can I see some ID?" he asked.

"Why?"

"I just want to make sure everything checks out. I just find it kind of strange that, of all the driveways you decide to turn around in, you choose the one with a bunch of cops clustered around. I just want to see what was up with that."

Without any emotion, Cheri reached into her purse and pulled out her second ID, positively identifying herself as Cheri Farnham of Long Beach.

"Alright then, hold on, let me check up on this," the officer began walking back to his cruiser. As he did, Cheri scanned the other officers and determined that they were watching her too closely and that a hasty escape would not be very effective and the chance for police and civilian casualties would by high. Another course of action would have to be calculated. For the time being, she would need to find out who it was that had been terminated. She had the opportunity about five minutes later when the officer returned.

"Ma'am, step out of the car, please," he said calmly by sternly.

_Chance of physical confrontation: 66.52%, _her readout stated. Though it continued with the advice to terminate all the police officers, she knew that this was the un-erased leftover Skynet programming talking. She did not have any major moral obligations to killing the officers, but she was worried about how much attention it would draw. Then she would have to go underground again…

"Ma'am…Cheri," the officer waved his hand in front of her face, "Did you hear me? Step out of the car right now."

This time, Cheri complied instantly without arguing. "May I ask what I've done wrong?" she asked.

"Nothing, but we need you to stay here until we can figure out just who you are."

"I have no connection to this," Cheri attempted to reassure him.

"You probably don't, but we have to make sure. You can help us—and yourself—if you cooperate."

"Hey, Mike," one of the detectives on the scene waved the officer escorting Cheri over toward the body, "Check this out. We've got another one."

"Another what?"

"Uh," the detective hesitated, "I dunno…_them._ The cyborg people; like the guy they said took out twenty Feds…and the guy that was with Sarah Connor at Cyberdyne thirteen years ago."

"Holy crap," the officer gawked. He turned to see a very calm and unemotional Cheri. "Do you know anything about this?" he asked.

Cheri finally grimaced; her internal commands were strongly advising her to disarm and kill this officer, then kill the other eight on the scene before getting thermite and disposing of whoever it was. But, what little compassion she had, coupled with basic common sense, told her that, in time, telling the truth would be the best. So she did just that.

"I apologize for lying to you, officer," she said, "and for the illegal possession of a false identification. Yes, I do know about this. Let me see the body, and then I will tell you everything."

The officer thought for a moment, "Alright, I'm sure we can work something out. Just cooperate from now on," he told her.

"I will. Now, let me see the body," she said. The officer led her over to whatever cyborg was laying on the ground. It had to have been…

"Dad!" she clamped her hand over her mouth in surprise. How did this happen? Cromartie was retreating…Tom would have had the jump on him!

"Wait a second," the officer was awestruck, "He was…your father?"

Cheri sighed deeply; for the first time in her existence, she had a lump in her throat and an urge to let out an emotional response to see her best friend, and the machine that first posed as, then actually began to see himself in the roll of her father, laying terminated—dead—on the ground. "He was my father…in a way. He took that roll as our cover, but he became that," she sighed again. There was no hiding it now. Perhaps she should just do it…get it over with and maybe it would help impede Judgment Day. She would trust the judgment of the LAPD officers not to panic and to use common sense...and hope it worked.

"Officers," she stated, "I am going to show you something. Do not draw your weapons, as I mean you absolutely no harm…and my sidearm—which I admit that I have—is in the glove compartment of my car."

The cops discussed this and chattered a bit, all of them putting their hands on their weapons but not drawing them. Then, the scene commander looked at Cheri and nodded.

"What do you have to show us?" he asked, "is it relevant to this case?"

Cheri nodded, "it is. It will help you solve the case. I am," she smiled and flashed the blue lights behind her eyes, "like him: Not exactly human. Now listen to me carefully, because this is important. And remember: I am, and he was, on your side; the side of humanity. But there are others like us who are not. So please listen."

* * *

Sarah had loosened up a little bit as they got closer to Sacramento. Everyone had started chatting a bit, as the time to plan their assault had not yet presented itself. The question was raised as to why Spartans like Azadah were made rather than utilizing more reprogrammed terminators.

"Well," Azadah said, "for the same reason you would have, Derek: Nobody, not even Connor, totally trusted most of the terminators that were reprogrammed. With the exception of our friend Cameron here, the 800s, and the 900s, a lot of reprogrammed metals did go bad…the 888s were specifically designed to be even more unstable than the 800s just so if they were reprogrammed they might revert to their original settings…the 800s didn't do that. At any rate, that's why they started the program to create enhanced soldiers like me: All human, just with some metal parts thrown in."

"I don't know," Derek shuddered, "I just can't imagine wanting _anything_ Skynet related in my body. I mean, taking…terminator _cadavers_ and putting them in humans?"

Azadah rolled her eyes, "It saved my life…and it saved me from being a vegetable for life. It was a miracle…so yeah, some good things can come from bad situations…history has shown that over and over. And if you can't see that then you're…well…dumb."

Derek tisk tisked and shook his head, "_Skynet_ is dumb. Making unstable terminators just so they would go haywire. And," he hesitated, "and if _she_," he gestured to Cameron, "is as stable and loyal as you all think she is…"

"I am," Cameron interrupted.

"Right; whatever. If you are, than they screwed themselves."

Cameron beamed a teasing smile, "You're welcome!"

"Shut up," he grumbled.

Cameron stuck out her tongue at him. "Skynet is really _weird_ though," she commented, "I mean, since everything is based on calculations, sometimes their ideas get crossed up and they come up with some…really…crazy and that the same time…John, can you give me an expression?"

John thought, then responded, "idiotic? Hair-brained?" he fed her.

Cameron considered these, "Okay, I guess 'hair brained' works. Skynet had a lot of hair-brained ideas. In 2025, the year before I was built, they tried to make liquid metal miniature terminators disguised as different kinds of food so that when people ate them, they would kill them from the inside out. They also figured it would make people too paranoid to eat and they would starve themselves to death."

The car was silent for a moment as everyone pondered this. It was certainly interesting but, at the same time, as Cameron said, hair-brained.

"Well, you gotta give them points for creativity," John said, "I'm guessing it didn't work."

"I think once or twice," Cameron accessed her memory files, "the problem was the reprogrammed terminators picked them out immediately. Also, there was one case where one disguised itself as, get this, a leftover pizza slice, and it got put in the microwave. That killed it—and the microwave—pretty quickly. They took them out of production not long before I was sent back."

"Jeez," John shook his head, "I can only imagine what it was thinking. 'Hang on, let me heat up this slice of pizza.' 'Wait, what? CRAP!'"

Cameron giggled, then broke into a nearly hysterical laugh. The rest of the passengers found John's remark somewhat amusing, but it seemed that only Cameron found it absolutely hilarious.

"I can just imagine, 'wait, I am a terminator…I don't taste like sauce and cheese,'" she managed to choke out through bits of laughter. As she wiped tears from her eyes, she noticed that nobody else seemed to enjoy her amusement. Even John was not really laughing at his own joke. Immediately, her laughter died down and she felt very embarrassed.

"I'm sorry," she said bashfully, "It's just…well, I saw the microwave incident so…I guess it was funny to me…and I also am still actually understanding what makes things funny and…"

"Cameron, don't worry," Azadah patted her on the shoulder, "We know all that. Things are just funnier to some people than they are to others."

"Thanks," Cameron said, still embarrassed. She felt lost; it was not that she was _tryin_g to act this way and show emotion, it's just the way it was. It was real emotion; her brain and chip had, metaphorically, fused. She knew her behavior was in many ways, childlike, and she worried that it was disappointing to John. She decided to change the subject. "Azadah, I forgot to tell you that Brad tried to rape me last night," she said casually.

Azadah's first instinct was to become very concerned. It was a natural, sisterhood type of reaction. But before saying something stupid, she reminded herself that it was not possible for _anyone_ to physically take advantage of Cameron.

"Did you kill him?" Azadah asked.

"No, I was ordered not to," Cameron replied, "he put roofies in my drink after I told him I wouldn't sleep with him. I gave him a black eye though, then John beat him up when he found out. Overall, it was an…educational night."

Azadah nodded, "Ah. Well, that's good. I thought you were going to…you know, do 'it' with him. I mean, I'm glad you didn't, but…"

Cameron shook her head. "I wasn't going to have sex with someone I wasn't in love with. You taught me that, Azadah."

A cold feeling of guilt hit Azadah and she fought the urge to turn and reciprocate Derek's teasing stare, which she knew he was giving without even looking back. "Yeah it…it's not something you want to do…very often. People do make mistakes and give into temptation sometimes though," she said quietly.

"They _sure_ do," Derek remarked.

Azadah scowled, but did not look back at him, as that may have tipped Cameron off that something had happened.

"Well, I didn't make the mistake. I'm still untouched," Cameron said, a hit of pride in her voice. It was a weird thing to hear a cyborg say, but John was relieved to hear it. "I don't think I even want to have pre-marital relations."

"Whoa, whoa!" Derek snickered, "_Pre_-marital? As in there will be a…marital? Alright, Tin Miss, I understand you're getting excited about all this development in your chip, but…"

"Derek, just stop right there!" Sarah interrupted.

"I'm just saying…

"Shut up!" Sarah emphasized.

Azadah just shook her head, ashamed of herself. She felt two faced and hypocritical. She had let her best friend down, preaching about moral behavior and then going and having a random roll in the hay with Cameron's worst enemy. Sure, she _had_ had her eye on Derek for awhile…ever since she saw him in that bunker back in 2026. She had kept her mouth shut for awhile before confiding in Cameron once that she thought Derek was hot but knew better than to fraternize with an officer, and then told Cameron not to tell anyone. She had spoken with distain about people who had casual sex, but at the same time, she had, now on three occasions, done just that. Each time, she would try and justify it by telling herself that she _was_ planning on having a long term relationship with whoever she had been with, but the first time was with a friend that she would occasionally meet for sex and, after he was killed in a battle, she vowed never again. Then, the next was with a guy she was assigned guard duty with in a tunnel. One thing led to another…and they ended up doing it on the hard, cold, rocky ground. Then there was Derek.

Yes, she told herself, it was best to keep this from Cameron until she was better prepared to hear it. She would also have to keep telling lies about all this, which absolutely killed Azadah.

"Alright, let's focus," Sarah said, "We'll be in Sacramento in ten minutes. Let's start getting a plan together."

* * *

By the time Cheri was finished explaining everything, all the officers, and a few more who had joined them, were in awe. So this was how the world ends…and how to stop it. Sarah Connor had been right. The LAPD had been wrong; the LASD had been wrong, the FBI had been wrong, Dr. Peter Silberman had been wrong…then changed his views, innocent men had died, FBI agents had been killed because no one had heeded the warnings of Sarah Connor. The paranoid schizophrenic that had escaped from a maximum security institute for the criminally insane was, unfortunately, all too sane.

"So…uh, 'Robot,' did you tell us your name?" a gruff looking sergeant named Aaron Ingram said.

"No, I didn't yet. My name is Cheri, Cheri Westin. Also, I'm not a robot; I'm a cybernetic organism."

"Oh," the sergeant nodded, "sorry." He then stuck out his chest and looked sternly at her, "So," he said, "If there are so many bad robots—I mean cyborgs—running around, how do we know you're not one of them and trying to trick us?"

"Because," she replied with a sly look, "If I wanted to kill you, all of you would already be dead by now. But I don't want Judgment Day to come and I believe that you officers can help me…I mean us. This whole war is dismal, which is why I was retiring," she looked down at Tom, "I don't know if I can, though. It seems as though even when I try to avoid this war, it comes back to me."

The officers all seemed to agree with this. Every policeman wakes up and knows the day could turn out unexpectedly, maybe even tragically, but none of them expected to wake up and meet a cyborg from the future _and _have proof beyond the usual tin foil hat conspiracies!

"Guys," an officer named Bill Chandler got off the hood of his cruiser upon which he had been sitting, "You are taking the word of…of somebody who is probably creating a hoax! I mean, killer cyborgs from the future? A nutcase in the loony bin being the mother of the savior of mankind?" He chuckled, "And you actually believe her? I thought we were cops!"

"We _are_ cops," Ingram replied, "and we have to follow the evidence. The evidence points to a guy with a bunch of bullets lodged in his _metal_ body and a port open in his head! Come on, Bill, you know the saying: Hear it once, it's a hoax, hear it twice, it's a coincidence, hear it three times, better investigate it. I was at the Cyberdyne shootout in ninety-four, and we pumped lead into the guy with the Connors and he barely _flinched_. We all just told ourselves that he was on crystal meth or PCP and wearing armor like the guys at the North Hollywood shootout...and it was denial in terms of how we explained away his surviving head shots. He had a metal skull that I was trying to convince myself was due to some surgery or something. He gave me this limp," he pointed to his knee, "You all know me; I don't exactly wear a tinfoil hat, but this is what adds up and this is what we have to go on: She's giving us solid proof of what she is and what will be!"

"Sarge," Chandler said, his voice bordering on insubordination, "Even if there is any truth to this, you're siding with someone who claims solidarity with a cop killer! West Highland, Eighty-four? Ring a bell? Then he shows up again at Cyberdyne ten years later with...the people who we're supposed to helping...one _another_ known murderer and terrorist?"

"The one in Nineteen Eighty-four was not the same unit captured, reprogrammed, and assigned to protect John Connor in Nineteen Ninety-four. That one at West Highland was assigned by Skynet to terminate Sarah Connor. They were the same model, the T-800, but different units. John Connor's protector, Cameron, told me that John had ordered her and that one you saw, Sergeant, not to kill anyone," Cheri said.

Ingram looked suspiciously at her.

"It is your choice whether or not you believe me. But lying would be no benefit to myself or the success of Skynet to my knowledge," she said calmly. She knew a good police officer was suspicious by nature, but she was not lying, and that would be evident soon enough. She also knew that Ingram had no choice but to follow her for the time being. "You must trust me for the time being. I will even give you the instructions of how to destroy me if you feel you need such information. But the fact remains that you have seen three cyborgs, possibly more, and that is the point here."

Ingram nodded, then turned back to Chandler, "Also, Bill, what about Sergeant Taylor with the Sheriff's Department? He's half bionic now himself! Remember when both our SWAT units were taking care of that drug bust in East LA last week? A bunch of MS-13 guys had barricaded their front door with just about everything you could imagine, including bits of an armored car they got from a junkyard. Anyway, they went to breech, and Taylor just pulled the door off its hinges and kicked in the barricade. The MS guys didn't put up much of a fight after that."

Cheri looked straight at him, "Do whatever you can to assist John and Sarah Connor, Cameron Phillips, and Derek Reese. Know that they will have to do things that are illegal, but they will be necessary to prevent Judgment Day. Your chances are evened out with enhanced officers and deputies such as Sergeant Taylor. He has already been approached by Resistance fighters and knows about this…"

"Give them a free pass?" the skeptical officer, Bill Chandler, stepped forward again, "Ma'am, this is ridiculous! I mean, the Attorney General may do things that people disagree with, but just because they are paranoid about his plans doesn't give them the right to go and kill anybody they choose. And now you guys are trying to corrupt good officers," he shook his head, "That's it, I'm putting in a call to CHP."

"Like hell you are!" a Lieutenant Howe growled, "She made it perfectly clear that it is not their intention to kill anyone. Now, I'm thinking that, so long as they hold to this and don't go after any cops, we need to trust them."

"Spread this nonsense through our department? Come on, Taylor is already on suspension because he's preaching this bullshit," Chandler said.

"Bullshit?" the officer who had initially approached Cheri, named Sam Taylor (no relation to the Sheriff's deputy about whom they had been speaking), walked over to Chandler, "you have all the proof you need right here! If being a cyborg was a crime, we would have probable cause to arrest her! I don't know about you, but we have four years to prevent a nuclear war…"

"Nuclear war," Chandler rolled his eyes, "You are afraid of the plans for an automated army because you're probably reading too much of that tinfoil hat stuff."

A call came over the radio for all the officers. In Chandler's patrol district, there was a man high on crystal meth who had barricaded himself in his house and taken his ex-girlfriend and her friend hostage. There were already five units in route to the scene and SWAT had been called.

"You need to take that," Howe said, "we'll take this from here."

Defeated, Chandler shot the rest of the cops, and Cheri, an evil look before getting into his cruiser and rushing off to the crisis.

"He's a threat," Cheri said when he left, "He's probably working for Marius."

"Wait…what?" the lieutenant said, "Now _that_ sounds paranoid."

"I would suggest that you conduct surveillance on Officer Chandler," Cheri continued, "I never said anything about Marius creating an automated army, and Marius has not made an announcement in public of his plans. How else would he know unless he had contact with the Attorney General?"

All the police officers thought about this. Chandler _had_ always spoken about the Attorney General with a hint of worshipfulness when, in reality, Marius was _not_ law enforcement friendly. He wanted to get rid of most municipal police departments and make the county sheriff's offices the sole law enforcement agencies in California. He then hoped to bring all county agencies under direct state control (he just did not have the power to do so).

"He barely got through the Academy," Howe remarked, "He had some glaring disqualifiers in the hiring process too; I know, I was his background investigator. I actually _failed_ him…how could I forget that?"

"Marius has been solidifying his position for a long time. He probably has people loyal to him in most major law enforcement agencies throughout the state," Cheri said as she bent down to inspect Tom's open port.

"Yeah, also, I know Sergeant Taylor," Sergeant Ingram added, "He's not the type to go shouting out doomsday prophesies even if he believes them. He wouldn't have done something to get himself suspended unless he felt it would really work in the long run. I think maybe I should give him a call and find out what happened exactly."

"Has anybody checked the house yet?" Cheri asked, a look of concern on her face.

"Yeah, what are we looking for?" Lieutenant Howe asked.

Without a word, Cheri headed up her pathway.

"What are we looking for, Cheri?" he asked again, but Cheri was already inside the house. Quickly, he and a few other officers followed. "Cheri, tell us what's going on, please," he said again.

"I need to see if Cromartie, the one I suspect did this, accessed Dad's CPU," she said, somewhat off into space, "He could have acquired sensitive information that would deal a serious blow to preventing Judgment Day."

"What information?" the lieutenant followed, but was cautious to keep his distance. He was still a bit untrustworthy of the pretty terminator girl.

"If our CPUs are hacked, they can act as an archive of all encounters we have made. If Cromartie hacked the chip, it may lead him to the whereabouts of John Connor." Cheri entered their den and saw the computer on; it had been off before. This did not prove anything, but it was good evidence. "Oh no," she said, a trace of emotion in her voice, "No, this is not good at all. Damn it!" she finally exclaimed.

"What? He did it?" Another officer asked.

Cheri turned on her heels and quickly made her way out of the room.

"Where are you going?"

"I have to go," she said, "There is a seventy-eight point zero one percent chance that Cromartie is in pursuit of the Connors."

"Where are they going?"

"To Sacramento."

"Why?"

Cheri did not answer.

"Why, Cheri?" the officer asked again.

The officers turned and looked at each other, "How are we going to stop him?"

Cheri turned back to them, "If any law enforcement agency attempts to neutralize a T-888 without adequate armament, the chance of another massacre like the one that occurred with the FBI is ninety-six…"

"I don't need the numbers," the lieutenant interrupted.

"Just trust me and do whatever you can to keep any and all civilians and law enforcement agents out of his way. Make sure I am unmolested on the road. I also suggest that, if any marked interceptors are spotted by either Cromartie or the Connors" she looked sternly at the officers, "It would not be good. Stay here, I'll be back."

The officers watched her quickly head back outside to her car.

"Come on, isn't anyone going to stop her?" a young officer said.

"You can go and try to stop her…be my guest," Ingram said, "Anyway, let's see what we can do to help."


End file.
